Trip Through Your Wires
by Red Draco
Summary: It's Peace Time for the Hunters, which means that instances of back-stabbing and bad blood should be minimal...but instead they're skyrocketing along with a sense of intense unease. C'est la vie, X and Zero. Save the world. You can do it.
1. Labs and Warrens

**Chapter one: Labs and Warrens**

"Huh..." 

Shoulders slouched, Zero shuffled into the ill-kept computer lab of Maverick Hunter Headquarters, dragging his feet slowly and clutching a three-legged stool like a crude, prehistoric weapon. That's what he was ... a caveman, a relic, a useless dried up old sack of - 

"Blessed be the fruit, Sunshine." 

The crimson hunter glanced up at his best friend, X, who grinned like a Cheshire cat at the sorry display Zero put up. The smallish, sapphire-plated reploid was spilled sloppily in an isolated seat, an open book in his lap. 

"May the Lord open," Zero said wryly as he threw his stool down under a ceiling light that sputtered and gasped in its last few seconds of life. He glanced up at the struggling bulb, climbed the stool, and reached for it with his bare hands. 

X cocked his head. "Might wanna turn off the lights 'fore you do that." 

"Away to hell with that safety shite," Zero grunted as he yanked out the old bulb and unceremoniously passed the Responsibility of Light onto a new one. "Suicide would do me good." 

"Oh. Bored, are we? A world without fighting makes Zero a cranky-pants." 

"Oho," Zero snorted as he jumped off the stool. "Don't give me that haggis. Look at the way you're slouching. You don't even see a damn word on that page. It's been almost four months since Repliforce went floating on down the River Styx, and you're just as restless as I am!" 

X's grin didn't dull. "Naw, I'm just lazy! The whole reason I fight is so I can enjoy quiet moments like this." 

"Yes, of course X," Zero drawled. "And Hendrix herds ghost-cows through my bedroom at three a.m. every night with Slash." Zero walked over to the open window on the west wall of the lab. Soft April air billowed into the room like the breath of Persephone. His molten gold mane swinging gently in the sweet breeze, Zero leaned out the window. Directly below, clashing against the black asphalt of the parking lot, glittered the platinum figure of Forrest. The unpopular reploid appeared to be reading a magazine. He seemed happy enough. 

"Pokeball go!" Zero sang as he dropped the dead lightbulb on Forrest's head. The bulb emitted a gaseous _pop!_ as fragments of frosted glass flew hither and yon. Forrest jumped about twenty feet into the air and frantically looked around him. It never occurred to the dull lad to look _up_ for his assailant, who snickered loudly as he pulled his head back into the room. 

X gave his friend a sidelong glance. "We need to find you something to kill." 

Zero's cruel pleasure evaporated quickly. "I'm just bored," he grunted. His eyes jumped about the room. "Hey now...where IS everybody?!" 

The lab was unusually deserted. Aside from the two Hunters, two of the kitchen staff, Terrence and Phillip, were present, messing around on one of the computers. But they didn't count as any sort of company. 

X sighed as he closed his book. No point in reading while Zero was around, he was the cat that twined around you while you were doing your homework. "Aw come on now, Zero. You know what happens to this place every time spring rolls around. The reploids try to form a softball team, but usually beat each other up with the bats instead...and the humans...well, they've got one thing on their minds this time of year, and it's quite the opposite of war." 

Zero yawned and cracked his knuckles. "True enough. Huh, gotta love them apes. Maybe I'll go bug Genesis..." 

Josh Garret, a Senior from the Night Vipers Maverick Hunting squadron and a veteran from the first Maverick War, walked into the room. The wild-haired twentysomething looked about him and blinked slowly at Zero in a lizard-like fashion. 

"Howdy Zero." 

Zero jerked his head back. "Whoa. Carbon." 

"Hi Josh!" Terrence and Phillip piped frantically for the Hunter's attention. 

"Er, uh, hi guys. Listen Zero, I wanted to tell you..." 

Terrence and Phillip would not be brushed off. 

"How's Mrs. Garret, sir?" 

"Hope she's doing well?" 

"When's the baby due?" 

That last line sent Zero reeling. X quickly opened his book again and shoved his face in it, apparently not caring that it was upside down. 

Josh ducked his head and whimpered quietly, his ragged crop of hair hanging in his eyes. "Tess ... Tess is ... well along the way, Terrence ... thanks for your ... concern ..." 

"Wow! So she's gonna pop any day now, isn't she?" 

Josh frowned. "For lack of a better term ... yes. That's why I wanted to talk to you, Zero. Tess won't be hunting for a good while, but I figure that's not too bad seeing as how it's so quiet now and all..." 

Zero raised a hand. "Hold. Let me get this straight. Tess was pregnant this whole time and I was never informed?" 

"I never advertised the fact," Josh admitted, "but I figured you could tell! You've caught glimpses of her over the past few months, and she's as big as a house!" 

"Lawks-a-Mercy Josh, I just thought she was getting fat, and I didn't want to say anything to you!" Zero paused as he slowly ran one hand down his face. "All right..." he said quietly. "Something doesn't compute here. How far along is Tess?" 

"'bout seven months." 

"Which means our adorable little future Hunter was conceived during the Repliforce War, eh?' Zero's voice was starting to rise. 

Josh grimaced, well aware of his crime. "Eh, yeah." 

Zero folded his arms. "Soooo, why didn't Tess get her mandatory birth control injection when the war started? Or, at the very least, why didn't the daft lass _tell_ me she was pregnant?! Hunting while there's bacon in the oven is not only prohibited for safety reasons, it's just plain _stupid!_ Good God! Where was Genesis when all this was happening?" 

"Tess refused to get the injection when the war started," Josh said, wringing his hands. "She said that she wasn't about to drop her pants for some fox who calls himself a 'doctor' to stick a needle in her rear. Genesis said he didn't want a hairless human ass in his face so early in the morning, so they kind of reached an agreement on that front." 

"That's the problem with everyone these days!" Zero snarled as he kicked over his footstool. "Nobody listens to orders! Discipline has gone straight to hell!" 

Josh coughed. "Well...at any rate sir, Tess won't be hunting 'till the baby's born ..." 

"_You bet your grandmother's preserves she won't be hunting!"_ Zero bellowed in Josh's face. "And I'll thank you for getting out of my sight right now!" 

Josh scurried out like a mouse being pursued by a cat. 

X was still reading his inverted book. Zero kicked his chair out from under him, and the blue Hunter went flying. 

"You knew about this all along! Why didn't you bloody well TELL me anything?! If Tess got hurt during the war with Repliforce, there could've been major legal trouble!" 

From his uncomfortable stance on the floor, X snickered. 

"It's not funny, X!" 

"I'm not laughing at the situation," X giggled. "I'm laughing at you. It's ironic that you can't relax when it's so quiet! This whole issue isn't that big of a deal. Tess is safe now, that's what matters. You shouldn't be so upset over this!" 

"The thing is, I was disobeyed, and to top if off, we're down a Hunter," Zero growled like a starving pitbull as he picked his footstool back up. He was teetering on the edge. "And even in peace time, I don't like that." The fuming Hunter spied Terrence and Phillip leering cautiously at him from behind the door. 

Phillip cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir, but did Shakespeare not say that conception is a blessing..." 

Zero screamed obscenities about Shakespeare as he whipped his much-abused footstool at the door. Terrence escaped, but poor Phillip got it right between the eyes. Terrence was too frightened to drag his unconscious brother to safety. 

Still flat on the floor, X smiled and laced his fingers behind his head as he listened to the beautiful sounds spawned of boredom. It certainly beat the music that came along with war, i.e. happy fun screams of pain. 

But underneath his skin, something was hiccuping and poking at his ribs. He was fooling himself; there were tremors of worry running through him. And X couldn't locate the source. 

_Why am I so damn uneasy...?_

  
  


"Huh..." 

Caillou's room never saw sunlight, but his body prodded him awake at the appropriate time. The black-haired boy muttered to himself as he sat up in bed and wiped at the sleep that gummed his blue eyes shut. That done, he yawned massively and swung off his warm mattress and into the chilly air of his cramped sleeping quarters, which were better known as 'warrens' among the warriors. Given the structural nature of the rooms, it was an appropriate name. 

His breath hanging in the air like icy fog, Caillou scrambled to get dressed as quickly as possible. The warrens weren't heated for just that very reason. 

The colder you are, the faster you move, Asmodeus 12 often said. 

Fingers numb, Caillou laced up his boots as best he could, their beetle-shell surfaces clouding with every breath he puffed. That done, the youth yanked his black vest off its hook and punched his hand through the sleeve. He weaved his belt around his pant-waist and packed his lightweight Wyvern-Walker laser pistol into the holster by his side. The Wyvern-Walker was the boy's silent pride. It was an old but very rare and dependable weapon, a gift from his father to his mother. Now it was his. 

As he finished tightening his belts and girths, Caillou's eye fell on the small wooden table where his mother, Ange, used to sit during the chilly mornings. Sometimes she was there to exchange a few cheery words with her son, listening with a soft white smile as her boy singsonged about his training sessions. She was a gentle woman with dark skin and dark hair. Pleasant to observe, but rather jumpy when approached, like a robin at a birdfeeder. 

And she was faithful to Asmodeus 12 and his cause. 

"_They treat you differently,_" she often said to Caillou, "_because you're not 'planned stock.' But be patient. One day you will fit in, and you'll be a part of the workings. Until then, you must never be ungrateful for what you have here. We all need to stay focused and do our part if the Flesh and Scales project is going to succeed. The earth was intended for humans, not reploids, and Asmodeus 12 plans to keep things that way. So serve him with your heart." _

But she was gone now, she'd been gone for years, and all that remained was her lightsabre, lying on the tabletop, a cold, lifeless spectre of the past. Uneasiness and isolation moved in with him the day he came back to his warren to find his mother gone. He'd sat faithfully at the table, waiting for hours, becoming lonely, realizing very quickly that he'd always taken advantage of her company. 

Ange never returned, and Caillou knew better then to ask Asmodeus 12 where she'd gone. 

The boy dashed out of his warren, the Wyvern-Walker slapping against his thigh and his boots clanking on the mesh-like metal of the catwalk that snaked outside the warren doors. No one else was in the immediate area; he was early. The members of his platoon were apparently still getting ready. Settling down to wait, Caillou folded his arms on the catwalk railing and rested his head on them, looking down at the main hall. There, he saw the same sight he'd seen every day for his entire life, but it was a view that never failed to take his breath away. 

The main hall was not a hall, but rather a huge, upright cylindrical room known more commonly as the Great Tree, the meeting place of the dozens of hallways that stabbed the circumference of the Tree, like the rays on a child's drawing of the sun. The catwalk Caillou stood on ran around the teal and tan walls of the Great Tree, feeding off into the warrens. Activity and colours bustled below on the main floor, never ending. People came and went, decked in jumpsuits coloured according to their unit and rank. Each life had a purpose. Men, women, inseparable mates stepping in time with each other , toddlers who didn't toddle but rather walked with a steady, confident gait, boys, girls, and their multicoloured Mechadrakes, heads held high, wings fanning gently as they walked. 

And Asmodeus 12 watched them all. 

Asmodeus 12 was an ancient Mechadrake. His scales might have been a glorious silver at one time, but were now aged to a mottled grey leather that streched tautly over his whiskered draconian face like the skin of a starving man. A frazzled, bleached crop of hair sprang from his scalp, shaggy, like a badly kept lawn. The Mechadrake's eyes were a faded blue, almost to the point of being white. His wings were tattered and useless, creaking painfully with every movement. His white and blue battle armour was sparse and mismatched. His weapon was a chipped katana that nearly matched him in size, forged during wars fought in times out of mind. 

But the skin was tough, the eyes were sharp and watchful, and the wings were a mark of battle, a diary, a shredded scroll that held the words to a war-chant. The armour was still polished daily, and the sharp edge of the katana still shone wickedly. 

Asmodeus 12 was perched in his usual "morning" spot: the railing of the section of ramp that ran below Caillou's room. The dragon clutched at the steelwork with his vicelike hind claws, his thin frame hunched over like a weathered gargoyle on a porch step. His left leg was a normal Mechadrake affair, a padded and armoured drumstick, bare at the foot to expose formidable talons. But his right leg was another matter, completely stripped of all skin, exposing a steel skeleton from the knee down, like the claw of a gryphon. 

Caillou watched silently as the beast straightened up and yawned hugely, muttering something about beer as he smacked his lips and scratched behind his sinuous neck. 

But he didn't watch for long. Footsteps clattered on the catwalk as the rest of Caillou's platoon came slithering out of their warrens and headed down the ramp to the main floor. They were all boys his own age, swathed in dull green jumpsuits that were topped off with black leather vests and hard boots. The markings of the Diamondback Unit 

Caillou cringed slightly as the fighters cantered past him. The noise rattled around in his ears and pierced the soft, sensitive areas of his head like a needle. He was getting a lot of headaches as of late. 

One of the Diamondbacks slapped Caillou on his leathered back - not necessarily in a friendly way - and the young warrior was forced to forget his pain and join the herd on their way to training and breakfast. 

Caillou tried hard - very hard indeed - to squirm his way into the heart of the stampede. The platoon's path of travel would run directly under the perch of Asmodeus 12, and Caillou had no desire to be noticed, considering yesterday's events. 

The Diamondbacks ran around the massive coil of the ramp until they finally hit the main floor. Caillou rejoiced in being given the opportunity to blend in further with the thick crowd. Even better, Asmodeus 12 was looking the other way as the boy, heart squirming passed under the Mechadrake's 'throne.' 

Success! 

"_Caillou!_" 

...or not. 

"_Caillou!_" The voice was a scratched record, a throat full of sand, a reptile's bellow. It was unmistakable. And it was powerful. It carried all throughout the Great Tree. 

"_Caillou! To me, boy!_" 

Caillou's sheath of bodies parted, and the mass of people huddling around the boy scuttled away like clouds after a storm. The path to Asmodeus 12 was clear. Caillou swallowed a sigh as he trudged back to the ramp. He honestly tried his best to serve the Mechadrake with his whole spirit as his mother wished, but some kind of rodent in his heart always gobbled up any respect he had for Asmodeus 12 before it could take root. There was something in those cunning eyes, in that grizzled, dragon-whiskered face that was not to be trusted completely. 

Nevertheless, something in those pale eyes also forbade dawdling. Caillou sprinted back up the ramp to the second floor of the warrens. He slowly picked his way to Asmodeus 12. The medium sized Mechadrake had one arm cocked on his thin hip. His rodent-thin tail lashed back and forth on the ramp's cold steel like a stepped-on snake. His breath rattled in his lungs and dank guts. He didn't look at Caillou, but he had a conversation ready on his forked tongue. 

"Caillou my boy...how're you feeling this morning?" 

Caillou blinked. "Better, sir." 

"Hmm," Asmodeus 12 exhaled as he looked down, hawklike, at the jungle of fighters swarming below him. "I know you must be upset with us, given yesterday's...ceremony. But precautions have to be taken, boy. You cannot help your lineage, but you don't want to repeat your mother's mistake." 

Caillou's neck hairs bristled hotly, but he managed a short "Yes sir." 

"Indeed. Let me have a look at the band, boy. I want to see how it's settling in. I don't need you getting any infections." 

The outsider mechanically rolled up his sleeve. The damp light of the Great Tree bounced off the golden clamp that circled his wrist. Sinister and serpentine in design, the band was molded in the image of a dragon in a circle, clutching its tail between its fangs. It was an ouroborous band, and it was grafted onto Caillou's wrist less than 24 hours ago. And it represented a hell of a lot. 

Asmodeus 12 poked at the humiliating jewelry with a critical claw. "Well...seems to be doing fine. And if you're feeling all right, then everything is okay." The Mechadrake turned away from Caillou again. "And you understand fully what the band is for, correct?" 

Face burning furiously, Caillou ducked his head and said nothing. 

Asmodeus 12 kindly gave him a reminder. "The ouroborous band is reserved for those who are not planned. See, your mother, Ange, fell in with a man I didn't give to her. You were a result of their meeting." Asmodeus 12 spread his shattered wings to full as he talked, wind-shorn sails on a ghost ship. "This place runs on careful chemistry and planning, Caillou. Each person has their mate assigned to them on basis of loyalty and selective breeding. And, of course, the mates must be happy with each other. Those factors all contribute to healthy and strong offspring. That, and intense training are what humans need to overcome the reploids and take back the earth. And that's what we're here for. Do you understand so far, boy?" 

"Oh, sure." Caillou surprised himself. Sarcasm was seeping into his words...he had to be more careful, or he'd get himself into severe trouble. 

Luckily, Asmodeus 12 missed the acidic words. "Then you'll understand why that band is so important," he prattled on. "It marks you as 'Unplanned' and sterilizes you. That way, your bloodline won't jam up the works any further than it already has. In most cases, Unplanned children are culled at birth...but given your paternal lineage, I figured you'd be useful. But there are limits. We can't afford random mating here. Right, Caillou?" 

Hate spilled over hotly in Caillou's heart. But his voice remained cool as he remembered his mother's wishes. "Yes sir." 

" 'If you plant the Demon Seed, you raise the Flower of Fire.' Remember that, Caillou." 

"I will..." 

"Good boy. There's hope that you might be recognized as normal after all. Do a good job of things, and you just might be recognized and given regular rights. Now go on for breakfast. Mashed potatoes get crusty when they're cold." 

Caillou muffled a curse into a cough as he turned vault face and galloped back down the ramp to the main floor of the Great Tree, losing himself quite comfortably among the other Inheritors of Eden. 


	2. Badger in the Bar

**Chapter 2: Badger in the Bar**

"Well miss, what do you make of it?" 

Celeste McTreggor, bedraggled and smeared with the sweat and dirt of her two month scouting mission, scratched her tangled head in bewilderment. She and her small band of Hunters were surrounded by blackened, broken bones of old houses that were now fuzzy with a thick glaze of moss and roped down by tangles of huge weeds. Here and there, a few species of domestic flowers bloomed, waiting faithfully every year for their owners to return and tend to them again. Time-eaten steel pails and digging tools were strewn across the dead grass. The mountains loomed blue behind the ghostly scene. 

"Looks like it used to be a mining settlement or something," the Huntress said, hitching her hefty supply sack up unconsciously. "But it's ages old. Probably unauthorized, too. I'd love to know what happened here. Who kicked whose ass and all. Jody, any idea what our exact location is?" 

A young human male stepped up. Jody was a newcomer to MHHQ and the scouting mission was his first get-out. He'd proven himself an excellent fighter and an even better tracker. He was a quiet, catlike sort, twitchy-tailed, with chewed up silvery hair that he kept out of his face in a crude ponytail. He always insisted on wearing an alien-looking black leather vest, now sweat-stained and dirt-dusted, over his regular drab Hunter garb. 

"I'd say we're about 90 miles southwest of the city, in the more habitable areas of the Grasslands, miss...this little settlement here was definitely pre-World War." 

"Habitable. That's good to hear," Celeste grunted as she lifted her plastered bangs. Decades ago, World War III blasted through the air and left some lovely fallout. With the help of robots, humans guiltily rebuilt wherever uncontaminated land could be found. This resulted in some very compact and bustling cities which were still surrounded by sadly burned, lifeless plains called Skeleton Grasslands. 

The Huntress looked back at the wounded settlement and frowned. There was an odd air to this place, a familiar scent hung over it. It was quiet, uneasy, it stank of slaughter and cold murder. An icy dread slithered through Celeste's guts. _This ain't right._

"Jody, mark this place," she said slowly. "I'm sure Cain'll be interested in exploring it sometime, you know how that man holds his archaeology next to his booze and girly magazines. Everyone else, let's get ready to go home. Two months wandering out here and I've had my fill!" 

Happy chatter lit up the air as Celeste's small platoon of scouters packed their stuff up and headed to the long line of Landchaser Cycles waiting patiently in the hot sun. 

  
  


The day darkened, the air turned black and refreshed itself, and the stars woke up to do their blazing nightshift. A tall sandy-haired human male named Jackal enjoyed the crisp air as it invited itself into MHHQ's garage with small puffs. 

The square man was the caretaker of the Hunters' vehicles, including patient rows of Land and Sea Chasers, and the odd mobile suit or two. Each complex machine was kept immaculate, polished with a loving hand and a careful eye. Every single transport was christened with all seriousness, and as individuals. Their names glistened on their metallic flanks. 

Bathing in the night air and reveling in the heavy smell of oil and diesel, Jackal now caressed his own baby, _Lady Macbeth_, with a buffering cloth. _Lady Macbeth_ was a fine specimen of an Ocelot-class Landchaser, gold and black, sleek and trim, free and spirited as a wild horse. And she was everything to Jackal. 

"Yes my girl, it's nighttime. You rest now. I'll see you in the morning." 

Turning away from his life, Jackal frowned slightly as he arched his back. He wanted to close the garage and get to bed.but he couldn't close up until Celeste and her scouting pack arrived. They were due later that night. The mechanic thumped himself into his chair, which was arranged in his favourite spot.right beside the huge garage door, which still yawned open, waiting for Celeste's return. Jackal let the cool air hug him. He smiled and started to nod off. 

Jackal twitched his ears as a faint hum reached him. He opened one eye. The hum grew into a low whine, then grew into an agonized shriek as it got closer to the garage, a shriek from a Landchaser engine in pain. Jackal's heart leapt and adrinaline pumped into every vein in his body as he heard the cry. He grabbed the sides of his chair and peeked around the door to see Celeste's party slicing through the keen air and dewy grass on their Chasers, laughing like red demons on hell steeds. The Landchaser being tormented was _Tiamat_, Ozzie's mount. Ozzie was the commander of the Night Vipers, a Hunting unit made up primarily of rookie humans. The boyish fellow blasted towards the open door of the garage and showed no signs of slowing down, much to Jackal's horror. 

_Tiamat_ came screaming into the garage. Ozzie, fool that he was, leapt off the speeding Landchaser upon entry, somehow without killing himself. The powerful machine cascaded head first into _Lady Macbeth_, pinning the latter's mangled corpse onto the far wall. The sound was a glorious monstrosity, that of Godzilla fighting with a cement mixer. 

Ozzie picked himself up from the floor and punched the air with a fist. "SMASH! RAPE! The last beautiful free soul on this planet!" 

Jackal leaped to his feet, upsetting his chair. "You damn whore, I'll kill ya!" 

The rest of the crew did a considerably better job of parking their vehicles. Celeste watched them sleepily as she shut down her own pal, _Blackfox_. She was too tired to do anything about Jackal, who seized Ozzie by his black mop of hair and threw him into the wall, screaming something about suffering the same fate as his beloved. Instead, the Huntress dismounted and gave her dusty helmet to one of Jackal's garage monkeys, a small reploid named Bottle. 

"How did the scouting mission go, miss McTreggor?" 

"'twas a complete waste of time, Bottle me lad." 

"Didn't find anything, eh?" 

"No. Repliforce seems washed up for good." 

Bottle played nervously with Celeste's elaborately-painted helmet. "Um, not completely true, miss. A trace of Repliforce DOES remain." 

Celeste stopped. "You're kidding?" 

"No miss. Bill's scouting party came in a day earlier. And _they_ found a needle in a haystack some 30 miles west of here." 

  
  


Zero tugged on his ponytail, gawking at the object on the desk before him. "I don't believe this." 

X scratched behind his neck as he likewise regarded the relic. "Yesssss. Now THAT'S interesting." 

Cain diligently picked up the object between his thumb and forefinger. It was a chip, hardly bigger than his pinky fingernail. "If you can say nothing else, you gotta admit that Iris here has lost some weight!" Cain laughed alone until the utter lameness of his joke spread slowly through his system and finally hit his brain like a poison. His laughter slowed as reality dawned. 

"Oh my...that's a pretty godawful joke on my part, eh? First sign that I'm about ready for the Old Fart pasture. Anyway.yep, this here is Iris' life force, her control chip." 

For once in his life, Zero's disbelief in what he was seeing staved off his desire to throw Cain's head up into the ceiling, a desire he experienced every time the old Doctor told a bad joke. He turned to Bill, who stood at his left arm, sweating profusely. 

"Billy Boy, where'd you find the chip?" 

Bill didn't look too good as of late. Time had been unkind to the lackluster Hunter, ripping out his hair, carving a few wrinkles here and there, fitting him with new rolls of fat. At his last physical, Genesis loudly declared that the time was just right for a 'When Is Bill Gonna Eat One Too Many BLT's?' pool. 

Bill passed a hand over his glistening brow. "There was some wreckage of the Final Weapon about 30 miles west of the city," he puffed. "My crew brought back some other bits and pieces that might be of interest, but we thought you oughta see that chip for yourself, sir. You'll know what to do with it." 

Zero squinted. "How do you know it's Iris specifically?" 

Cain grinned. "Well, if you look real close, you can see the chip has frilly little laces all around its edge, and you can catch a whiff of old perfume wafting from it now and then. Oh, don't give me that look Zero. I ran a diagnosis the second I got the chip. I'm proud to admit that I'm a senile, drunken old fool 99.8% of my waking hours, but I still do my work damn well. And now that we have her chip, we can revive Iris. Isn't that nice?" 

X now scratched at his ear. "Well. I don't rightly know." 

Zero hit himself in the head with his fist. "Maaaaan...Cain, don't do this." 

"Hm? Whateverfor not? Don't you want to see your little friend again, Zero?" 

Zero gently took the old doctor by his shoulders and slowly led him to his chair behind his desk as if he were a sick child. The Hunter pushed down. "Sit, Cain. Here, have a nice drink and I'll try to explain this to you. Iris was Zero's friend. Iris followed Zero like a puppy dog. Zero killed Iris' brother. Iris didn't like Zero anymore. Iris tried to flatten Zero with a big Gargoyle mech. If Iris is revived, there will be major tension between Zero and Iris. Tension that no good can be born of. Do we understand?" 

"Oh my yes." Cain slowly hauled himself from his chair using the waist of Zero's jeans as an aid. He poured the rest of his glass of scotch down the Hunter's pants as he did so. Zero just kind of stared at the wet spot that blossomed slowly on the obvious area. 

"Now let ME tell YOU a story, friend! It's all about the time a charming fellow named Zero the Hun blew himself up during the first Maverick War. Bits of his stinking carcass flew from here to Ireland. But there was this real nifty doctor by the name of James Cain who decided to be a good fellow and glue him back together. Despite the fact that the job took weeks, and he froze his ass off that winter because he'd forgotten to pay the utility bill for the lab while he was absorbed in his work, Cain was smiling at the end of his trial. Yes, he even smiled when this nasty Zero demon woke up as a thankless screaming mess who couldn't remember anything and didn't make an EFFORT to do so, thus badly hurting the feelings of his two best friends, X and the fair maiden Celeste." 

X, who was leaning against the doorframe, turned to his friend and grinned. "Yeah, you jerk." 

"Make not a sound and don't look me too long," Zero grumbled as he fanned the front of his pants, attempting to dry them. 

Cain brightly held up one finger. "Ah! But this story has a sequel! See, evil Maverick types were threatening the city not long after the third Maverick War. X and Zero the Evil took off after the threat in the good Doctor Cain's new toy that he'd built specifically for them, The Gryphon. Zero decided he couldn't play nicely with X and the other Hunters, so he went off on his own to kill the nasty Maverick types. This resulted in Zero being captured, turned Maverick, and shot by X and the others within an inch of his miserable life. But, once again, Cain to the rescue! And, once again, abuse abuse abuse. But why does Cain put up with types like Zero the Yecch? Why does he devote his life to reviving him and his ilk? Why should he revive Iris? There is a very good reason for that." Cain fixed Zero with a glare. "Reploids don't have half the rights in this city that humans have. But they all have one. A reploid who shows no signs of being a Maverick has the God-given (or rather, human-given) right to be revived, provided their main chip can be found. And that is the moral of our story. That, and 'Don't eat expired olives.'" 

"But Iris DID go Maverick." 

"No Zero, she didn't. Her actions were a result of emotions, not a virus. I doubt very highly that she'd attack you again, unless you provoked her by, say, prodding her with hot irons. She'd leave you well enough alone. Heck, she redeemed herself at the very end, didn't she? I'd bet she'd be thrilled to see you. Give this thing a chance." 

Zero hitched his T shirt. "It's a mistake. That's all I'm saying." 

"We'll just see about that, my fine young man. Reconstruction will begin tomorrow." 

Celeste wasn't one for drinking, but she felt a stinging need for some alcohol when she heard the news about Iris' planned revival. The Huntress' feelings for good old Raspberry Barret were mixed, as mixed as Zero's own. She certainly wasn't too fond of Iris' clingy-ness to the Crimson Wonder, although, to give Zero credit, he had a bottomless bag of polite excuses to get the hell away from her. 

But what would it be like now? Iris and Zero hadn't quite parted on friendly terms. Celeste summoned a mental image of a metaphorically feline Iris swatting and hissing endlessly at a doleful Zero. She had to chuckle. 

But then there was the other side of the pond, the real fear that Celeste kept squished down in some icky, jealous part of her anatomy. What if Zero grew real affection for Iris? Wouldn't he be happier with his own kind? 

In her head, Celeste conjured a picture of Iris, in all her frilly-laced and girlish glory. 

Nah. 

Still, Zero's revival after the first Maverick War had been rough. He'd lost a lot of his memory, thus forgetting exactly how close he'd been to Celeste before his destruction. Admittedly, their relationship was almost restored, after years of growing together again, but bits and pieces of the past were still spinning randomly in space, waiting to fall into their old place. Zero had gone as far to propose to her before his destruction.but he seemed to have forgotten his vow. Or, at least, he never mentioned it. And Celeste wasn't going to bring it up, as hard as it was to wait for him sometimes, especially come spring. But hell, part of loving someone, regardless of their species, was learning how to simply put up with them. If Zero wanted the marriage back, he'd mention it. 

Celeste jumped ten feet as Zero bounded stealthily up behind her and clamped his cold hands down on her shoulders. "Boo! Two months and no hello? Where ya going?" 

"Two months and no shower. I figured it was a good idea to wash first, my good man. I'm going for a drink." 

Zero grinned feebly "I guess you heard 'bout the Iris revival thing." 

"Through the grapevine." 

Zero pushed Celeste's shoulders a bit. "Yeah, I'll go with you on that drink bit. Zoom!" 

_Salamandastron's Illusion_ was a small but very inviting pub located at the west end of MHHQ. Constructed of soft red stones and oak, it seemed a friendly enough place, until you caught a glimpse of the mottled green dragon statue that clung, arched, to a ledge above the bar. The snarling serpent was famous for taking on fearful forms in beer-sloshed minds. Proof of that fact lay in its stiff, battle weary body, riddled with chips and dents where terrified drunks had whipped their beer mugs at it in 'self defense.' 

Cass, the burly Reploid badger in charge of the watering hole, loved his pub. The only disasters that cause him scurry out from behind the bar were fire, flood, and falling dragons. The handsomely striped creature grinned as Zero and Celeste shuffled in. "Hey kids! Zero, you're in here plenty, I know, but why did you drag a nice girl like Miss McTreggor with you?" 

Celeste grinned wanly. "I came of my own accord, believe it or not." 

Cass gave the bartop a quick sweep with his big paw. "Well miss, what'll it be?" 

"Ah, I don't know. Coffee?" 

"Beer it is!" Cass thumped a frosty brown bottle in front of her. He fetched another for Zero, whose bottle gave a cool gasp as he flipped the lid off with ease and guzzled down some. Seeing Celeste hesitate to nurse, he allowed himself some air to reassure her. 

"It's Canadian." 

"Ah!" Celeste started, although she took small sips compared to her companion's huge gulps. 

Cass chuckled. "Given your last name, I'd expect you to be all over that bottle. But when I look at you, I just see your papa, God rest him. Fellow used to hang 'round here all the time and chew my ear off, 'till I had to tell him to buy a damn drink or get the hell out." 

Celeste rested her cheek against her fist as she idly ran her finger around the beer bottle's rim. "That's kind of odd.I love my dad, dead or alive, but I really wish he'd had more to say to me." 

Cass gave the bar another thoughtful swipe. "Overall, he was a shy man, miss. But he mostly lived a life that probably wouldn't make a good bedtime story for little girls. And, well, begging your pardon, but the relationship between Jake and your ma kind of..." 

"Sucked?" 

"Yes, that's the word. Seems they both kind of kept to themselves, eh? He kept quiet at home, if I'm to make an assumption." 

Zero set his bottle down. "Yeah, Celeste...I met your mom once. No offense, but she was a bit...flighty. Hell, she scared Genesis." 

Celeste set her chin in her arms and grinned sleepily. "Yeah, she could get rather loud. You never could miss her. But I wish I knew a bit more 'bout my dad." 

Cass handed another bottle to Zero, unbidden. "Salamandastron's Illusion has been around as long as the Hunters have, miss McTreggor. I've seen and heard a lot about your pa's life. I'm sure he'd like you to hear more about it. Got some time? I'll tell you a bit." 

Celeste rolled her head over. "I'd love it. Zero, are you in a rush to get anywhere?" 

"Not at all my dear! I'd like to hear this myself. I was a latecomer to the Hunter ranks, so I never got to meet Jake." 

"Great!" The badger set away some glasses he was drying before he sat down with the couple. "Let's see now.where to start." 

The small training room was still new, almost virgin, unscuffed. The "new car" scent still hung in the dark air, tinged with the smell of reploids...diesel, clean metal, and ozone. It was a room for the elite, untouched by human sweat and blood. 

"Hey Sting! When you poke this one, he gets pissed off and starts yelling at you with this kooky Irish accent!" 

Laughter that resembled the dangerous hiss of a gas leak wafted from the rafters of the training room. Sting Chameleon swung down from his perch by his barbed tail and lashed the newcomer's arm with a lightning tounge. A heavily accented curse followed as the newcomer jumped back, right into the solid bulk of Flame Mammoth. 

"It does, it does have a funny voice, it does!" Chameleon rasped. "And tasty blood, yessss. We have a human in our ranks, we do." 

"Huh, a human among the Spartans," Flame Mammoth rumbled. He turned to the young black-haired man who looked small in his crisp new Hunting garb, complete with the blood red cape that marked all the elite fighters of the Spartan unit. 

"What makes you so special that you can wallow with the big buffalo, hmmm? Human Hunters like you are supposed to be with the Night Vipers and Regal Dragons." 

The newcomer pushed back into the shadows of the nearest corner, nursing his stinging arm. "I used to be with the Regal Dragons," he mumbled. "They sent me here." 

"It blushes," Sting gurgled. "It's shy!" 

"We don't need tree swingers here." Flame Mammoth's gleaming silver-and-red body closed in on the newcomer in the corner. "I don't advise staying, stranger. You could get...hurt...and we wouldn't want that, would we? Maybe you have offspring? What would they say if their daddy got...oh, I don't know..._crushed_ somehow because he didn't know his limits?" 

The newcomer looked at Mammoth, his dark blue eyes locking with the behemoth's beady black peepers as he slowly coiled in his corner, a threatened cobra. 

"You won't touch my daughter. No one will." 

Mammoth was blinded by a neon green whisk as a lightdagger flashed out of nowhere and stuck him in his upper left arm. The firey pachyderm bellowed, a misty red pain clouding his vision. He blindly bashed at the wall in front of him, eagerly anticipating the crunch and collapse of the lethal human's bones. But he hit solid concrete. The newcomer had slithered behind him somehow. Before Mammoth could grasp what the hell was going on, he was stung again in his back. 

The other Spartans got a good look at the show, mouths hanging open. Sting's tongue flickered thoughtfully. 

"Hmmm.now I see why he's with us Spartans, yes. He earns his red cape!" 

Mammoth was mortified at being outsmarted by a human in front of his subordinates. Finally managing to turn his baggage around, he trumpeted directly in the newcomer's face, who barely flinched. His eyes just jumped sparks like a blue campfire. 

"Well! You WILL die now!" 

The newcomer's feathers went up as he held out his arms and lowered his head like a maddened bull about to charge. "Come on then, big fellah! Let's see you move that big fat arse!" 

"_HUNTERS!_" 

The voice rang through the room like the clash of a gong. It had the desired effect too; every Spartan in the room froze in place for a nanosecond before they leapt into formation. 

A strikingly tall male Spartan strode into view, a straight-backed reploid with unnerving blank eyes and a chrome dome that would have made Mr. Clean cry in shame. He strode into his unit's view, his own red cape flapping behind him like the wings of a dragon. Sigma, the leader of the Spartans and of the entire Maverick Hunting army. 

"At ease." 

The Spartans exhaled in unison. 

Sigma approached the newcomer, who was in complete awe of his new commander. Sigma placed a firm hand on the human's shoulder, guided him to the front of the room, and turned him around. 

"My Comrades, meet Jacob McTreggor, the newest member of our unit." 

A forced, mumbled greeting rose from the Spartans like a smog cloud. 

"He used to be in the Regal Dragons, under the command of Lady Draco. She advised me of his uncanny love and skill for fighting. I am inclined to agree that he belongs with us, as I'm sure Flame Mammoth does too." 

Now a snicker scurried about the elite Hunters. Mammoth's cheeks puffed out. 

"Jacob is one of us, a dedicated fighter." Sigma continued, his rising voice grasping everyone again. "There WILL be respect between the Hunters in this unit...even if I have to bash heads to bleed it out of you lot. Dismissed." 

Only Jake moved. The minute Sigma released his shoulders, he walked, red-faced, though an alley of Spartans who leered at him and snickered as he headed towards the exit. At that moment, he would've traded his world to be back among the playful lion-cub Regal Dragons, even if it meant enduring Red's gothic war songs. 

_You're very protective of her, Jake. I guess I'm to blame for that._

Jake's skin shuddered like a horse shedding flies as the all-to-familiar voice filled his head. _Away to hell with ya._

_You belong back with the Inheritors of Eden, Jake. We had a deal._

_There is no deal, Torrent._

_You owe me your first born, Jake. You owe me...no, you owe US your daughter._

_I told you...leave me alone._

_Remember the day she was born? While you were holding her, she cried when you gave me a good mental yelling-at. She has the old McTreggor curse, Jake. And you know what that means._

_Stay AWAY from her._

_Oh no no no. Mindspeak is such a beautiful gift. Once you're out of the way, I can hunt her down and bring her back to Eden myself! When the gates of communication are open between us, there's no closing them...she'll have to deal with having her mind raped every day for the rest of her life, or at least until she's driven to the point of near-insanity. Much the same way YOU are, Jake my boy. Gradually, day by day, you're losing it._

_I'll kill you first._

_Good boy! That's what I want to hear! You know where to find me.come and visit whenever you like._

_Just keep away from her, you perv._

_Who? Your daughter?_

_Celeste._

_Ah, Celeste..._

  
  


"Celeste! Miss! Are you okay?" 

"Hmm." Celeste groggily lifted her head and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "What just happened?" she slurred. 

"One too many drinks, perhaps?" Cass winked. "No, I was telling you a bit about your dad, and you kind of fell asleep on me. Didn't know I was quite that boring." 

"Here." Zero dabbed the corner of Celeste's mouth with a napkin. "News flash: you drool in your sleep. Too bad you missed the story.quite interesting, your dad." 

Celeste put her head back down and closed. "Heard every word...poor dad...you had to deal with so much..." 

Celeste drifted into a semi-conscious state. Behind her closed eyelids, a blue and green Mechadrake leered at her and lashed his finned tail, laughing. Torrent Leviathan, the silent curse and rival of the McTreggor line whom she'd confronted years back. The psychic sea serpent hadn't invaded Celeste's head since their battle, but she still dreamed of him. Torrent considered himself the shepherd of the McTreggors, many of whom, including Jake and Celeste, were born fighters and were gifted/cursed with a special form of mental communication simply dubbed "Mindspeak." 

_The Inheritors of Eden want me to collect you for them,_ Torrent told Celeste when she confronted him. _Don't ask what they do...but you'd be very happy there. But even if I don't succeed in bringing you there, they WILL find you, so don't resist._

Needless to say, Celeste constantly watched her back. And kept a difficult secret that came with her blood. 

"She does this sometimes," Celeste heard Zero say to Cass from the end of a long tunnel. "Falls asleep, becomes exhausted all of a sudden...personally, I'm worried as to how it'll affect her rank. Genesis is keeping a close eye on her." 

"Maybe she's just exhausted from the scouting mission. She needs a good night's sleep." 

Zero slowly helped her up. "Easy does it." He and Cass shared a laugh as she slumped against the Hunter. "Man, people are gonna think she's drunk!" 

Night was thriving by the time Zero half-carried his friend down the deserted hallways of MHHQ. At one point during the rough journey, Celeste stirred to life again. 

"They weren't fair to him, Zero," she murmured. "He had it rough, he had a lot on his mind. Same way I used to...same way I still do. I shouldn't pry into his life. I also have a lot of secrets that I just can't tell anybody." 

Zero pressed his cool hand against her warm forehead. "If you won't tell me about them, I can't help you, my dear. On the other hand, I have a few secrets of my own that I think are gonna catch up with me eventually...but we'll be alright as long as we watch each other's backs. It's a much easier trick with two. Now go back to sleep." 


	3. The Mechadrake and His Boy

Trip Through Your Wires **Chapter 3: The Mechadrake and his Boy**

"No no, a thousand times no!" Flame Stag snarled. "You're not convincing me! You need a demeanor that screams 'crack addict,' and you just don't have it. Try it again! And remember, this is our only ticket out of this rut!" 

Overdrive Ostrich snatched the black wig he was wearing off his head and threw it on the sidewalk waspishly. "This is so stupid! I hate being the Acid Queen, I hate not having a home, and I hate YOU!" 

Phoenix, lacking the energy to bash her underlings' heads together, looked at what was left of her brood with that hopeless hangdog expression that seemed to be reserved only for tired mothers. The fire-plumed Maverick avian slumped against a building wall at the corner of Dune and Yundas, the busiest intersection in the bustling Reploid/Human city of Kapcom. Wallowing in her own self-pity, the once-splendid reploid hung her crested head until her beak nearly touched her chest. Her own natural heat accented the shimmering waves that danced off the baked sidewalk and street. Cars screeched, roared, blared, coughing up fumes. The sun beat down like a demon's eye. Pedestrians of all species and ages pounded by, pretending not to notice the irate reploid ostrich who pulled on the antlers of his bellowing stag companion. They especially gave a wide berth to the dozing phoenix who was spilled on the walkway like a forgotten doll, ragged Icarus wings askew, in front of a stolen gentleman's hat with "PLEASE HELP FUND OUR HUMAN HOLOCAUST - GOD BLESS YOU!" printed clumsily on a card pinned to its rim. All that was lacking for the full effect was the beer bottle emptied with remorse, and the stagnant puddle of pee. 

Stag gave one mighty buck, and Overdrive went sailing into traffic. The glorious sounds of chaos ensued as the spindly bird was walloped by a few cars. Stag looked sadly at the wreck of Phoenix. Once so proud and hot tempered, the mystical reploid was now a chilly shadow of her former self. Flame Stag, Overdrive Ostrich, and Phoenix were all that remained of a horrific army that, under the red eyes of Sigma, brought terror to humankind during the third Maverick war … at the end of which Sigma and most of his lickspittle got their asses kicked into orbit by the Maverick Hunters, lead by X and Zero. 

Following their defeat, Vile, with the help of Phoenix, gathered up the sad remains of the bad guy army and came up with the brilliant idea of capturing Zero and turning him Maverick. It would've worked, if not for those meddling Hunters and the fact that evil just won't prevail in story land. Vile got chopped to bits, the fortress got squished, and the three Maverick survivours lead a nomadic lifestyle, running from the Hunters. At first, Phoenix talked hotly of rebuilding and destroying. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks aged into months, and months dragged into years, the dream of world domination seemed to giggle and scurry further and further away. The trio didn't even have a place to live, never mind plot. With each cold and soggy night on the streets, with each snowy and windy day, with each kid that poked her with sharp sticks to check if she was just an evil clown in a bird costume, Phoenix's inner fire went down just a little more. Now it was a mere flicker that threatened to be blown out with the next cold gust. 

But, at the same time, the right fuel could get it to flare blazing hot again. Flame Stag knew this, he still saw something in her eyes. Phoenix could never be doused. She was…well, she was a phoenix after all. They specialized in coming back from the dead. 

"Rebirth is what Phoenixes do best!" 

"Huhhh…you say something, Stag?" 

"Just talking to myself, miss Phoenix." 

"…and nobody's home…" the bird of prey muttered. 

Overdrive Ostrich, ravaged by the autos of the black asphalt sea, staggered back up onto the sidewalk. Silently, he picked up the black wig from where it lay and jammed it into place on his small head, where it hung like a hideous spider. 

"All right, Flame Stag," he said in a deathly quiet voice. "I'll do it one more time. I'll do it for a cup of coffee. I'll do it for miss Phoenix." 

"Good for you, Overdrive! 'kay, from the top then. I'm the Hawker, you're Gypsy. Give it your all…we can't expect donations for a crappy performance. A-one-a-two-a-three…" 

"Shut up the both of yas." 

Overdrive and Stag blinked simultaneously. "Miss Phoenix?" It was the first time the Maverick leader spoke in days. 

Phoenix shifted her sorry bulk. "Yeah…tell me something you two. How long have we been living like this?" 

"Good few years now, I'd reckon." 

"Right. Since the end of the third Maverick War we've been sitting here scratching ourselves. God, not even the Hunters bother to come after us anymore. We're a living joke. Hell, what were we doing while the Great War of Repliforce was raging? I was sitting here like a piss-soaked drunk, watching you two dress as a pimp and a prostitute, singing the same damn song, trying to earn some change. Well, I've had enough of - Overdrive, what's that godawful wreck of a tune called again?" 

Overdrive Ostrich's beak trembled. "'Eyesight to the Blind,' Miss. I'm sorry you don't care for it. It's quite a beautiful song that portrays the struggle of a former flight Captain trying to find a cure for his deaf, dumb, and blind son…" 

"Bugger that!" Phoenix roared. "It's sick! And anyway, it's the anthem of failure, the mating call of the loser. It reminds me of what you two have been reduced to! Look at you! Stag, you were once a nightmare of speed and flame. Overdrive, you were a biochemistry genius. Now you're singing some second rate song on a street corner? 

Both Overdrive and Stag's faces drooped. 

"That's right!" Phoenix's eyes were mirroring a firewall. "Hang your heads in shame! We're stuck in this miserable rut for the rest of our unnaturally mechanical and stinking lives." 

There was a choked sob born of a long neck. 

Stag frowned. "Aw, Miss Phoenix, you're making Overdrive cry…" 

"Good!" 

"No, come on now." Stag pawed at the sidewalk with a split hoof and shook his fiery mane. "We'll get out of this. We'll raise some money and we'll work hard to be the best darn terrors we can be. I swear it, Phoenix. We'll rise again! All we need is just a little patience." 

Cold water poured on Phoenix's heart once more, and her inner kindling was temporarily smothered. She softened. 

"Aw…oh hell. Stag, you do me good. I shouldn't dump on you two so much…you've been here for me this whole time, you've taken care of me, reminded me to breathe and swallow during my worse moments…I'm…I'm…" Phoenix gritted her teeth, she had a very hard time with the S-word. "I'm…sorry. Sorry. Sorry for doubting you, Stag. Sorry for making you cry, Overdrive." 

A watery smile chased the rainclouds away from Overdrive's thin face as he wiped away a tear. "Then…you LIKE 'Eyesight to the Blind,' Miss?" 

"No, I still hate its off-tune guts. But if that's what it takes to raise the money…by Gar, we'll keep on singing it!" Phoenix rose to her jeweled feet and punched a fist into the air for effect. 

A smatter of clapping trickled from a small audience that had gathered in front of the evil trio at some point during Phoenix's ranting. The observing knot was obviously moved. One human went so far as to wipe a tear from his eye. 

Phoenix slit one of her own optics. "What the hell are you starting at?" 

Intimidated, the group checked itself and broke off as if nothing happened. One young man twisted around and threw something in the beggar's hat in one smooth motion before walking on. The object made a dull _tink,_ a strain of music that happily clanged in the Mavericks' ears. A donation! A sign of hope, of rebirth! Joy! They all dove for the hat at once. After some kicking and slapping, Phoenix got to the bottom of the pile and fished their bounty out. 

"Just what the hell is this?" 

Rubbing a bruised wing, Overdrive stood beside his superior. She was holding a large coin in her hand, a single piece of money with a brass core clasped by a silver ring around its edge. A wondering polar bear on an ice floe was etched onto the 'tails' side that Phoenix was staring at. 

"That, madam," Overdrive said, "is a Canadian two dollar coin, better known to those crazy Canucks as a 'toonie.' Kind of cute, isn't it?" 

"What you mean to say is, 'here in America, it's toilet paper.'" 

"That's another way to put it. No, actually, I think it's worth one-twentieth of a cent here…" 

Phoenix blinked once, and slowly drew herself to her full grand height, standing up straight for the first time in months. 

"How…how could anyone be so…how…" 

Phoenix staggered on her words, shaking her crested head back and forth in distress. 

"Our first donation ever…I thought it was a…a sign…" 

Overdrive could've sworn he smelled something burning in Phoenix's systems. 

"So…heartless…" 

Phoenix's muscles steeled, her fists clenched and trembled, her talons extended and scraped the sidewalk with a sound that set one's teeth on edge. She grit her teeth in a frightening mad-dog grimace and her eyes danced aflame. All at once she released herself with a whine and a howl, shot her arms to her burning sides, and threw out her wings. In one blazing second, she caught up with the unfortunate young man who had made the donation. Hopelessly left behind, Flame Stag and Overdrive ran to catch up. 

Terrified by the sudden fiery breeze that breathed down his neck, the donator whipped around just in time to see Phoenix dig her claws into his shoulders. He screamed as eight individual spots of blood sprung to life on his virgin white T shirt. 

"Excuse me, good sir." Phoenix ripped one of her talons out of the man's shoulder to hold up the toonie. "Did you just throw this at us?" 

An opaque glaze was staring to mist the human's eyes, but he managed a strangled "Y-yes. Yes…" 

"And just what did you intend we DO with it? Eat it? Worship the cute little bear on its ass? Dress it up and have tea with it?" 

The stricken human tried to get an excuse around his swollen tongue. "I…thought…you could…" 

"Yeeeeeeees?" 

"Spend it…" 

"Pssh, ha ha ha ha! Did you hear that, Overdrive," Phoenix said to her underling as he dashed up by her side with Stag. A terrific frown chased away her amusement as she shook the boneless human. "Let me tell you something, sir, I've burned puppies alive, I've stolen manger scenes year after year from whatever churches I could terrorize, I've chucked donuts at old people. But never…_never_ would I be cruel enough to give a panhandler Canadian money. Well, I might _eat_ the panhandler, or gouge his eyes out, but that's a horse of a different colour. There's a fine line between just messing around and being an outright bastard. And you, my friend, have crossed that line while wearing yellow flares and a big rainbow wig." 

The human was pretty much drained of lifeblood, but he managed to weep, "What the hell does that mean…" 

Phoenix cackled. "It means it's time to teach you to fly! Here, Stag, grab his legs." 

Stag wasted no time. In seconds, their prey was swinging between them like a broken cradle. 

"And-a-one!" 

"And-a-two!" 

"And-a-threeeeee!" 

Phoenix and Stag racked major points for style and distance: their plaything arced across the street like a monstrous bird attempting to fly with undesirable results. The limp body attacked a hot dog cart upon landing. The unfortunate vendor decided right then and there that early retirement was a nifty idea. 

But back on the action end of the crosswalk stood a glorious sight: a Phoenix Reborn. 

Phoenix was all fire, shimmering, clean, ferocious, black talons glittering, her huge fists clenched, her wings a firestorm, her eyes a red hell. She raised her fists and bellowed a scalding war cry… 

"_I am the Queen of the Ninth Ring, a goddess among reploids! Your children will be my pawns, unless I rip their little heads off first! I'm more special than all you human-type bitches, and you'll hide under your cute little tea-tables when you hear my name…"_

Without losing momentum, Phoenix gave a sharp little kick to Flame Stag, who likewise kicked Overdrive Ostrich. 

"_LONG LIVE THE PHOENIX!_" the trio howled in unison like a pack of wolves starting a hunt. 

"Damn right!" Phoenix said. "To hell with raising money! What are we, honest? We'll simply lie, cheat, and steal our way to holocaust! Just like old times!" The Three Musketeers made their way down Yundas like cannonfire. Phoenix flicked the Toonie of Destiny on her thumb and caught it again. A collective sigh rose from the sharper humans as they realized their species faced extinction yet again. Uneven clapping came from the dimmer Neanderthals who thought they'd witnessed another show. 

  
  


"_Hold him! Altogether now, pull! Don't let him coil, or we're all screwed!_" 

Sweat pooled under Caillou's thick gloves as he and the other Diamondbacks followed the commands that the black Mechadrake bellowed at the Unit. An even more unpleasant brew of blood _and_ sweat ran down his hair and forehead, matting his mane and mingling salty in his mouth. But he didn't have time to savour the exotic taste. At a frenzied word from a Diamondback beside him, Caillou yanked his end of the thorn-barbed rope. The hyper bronze Mechadrake that writhed under the cruel net bulged his huge muscles and screamed an unearthly song of pain and rage, but the ropes were held taut. Everything was moving sluggishly, though a fevered dream. Nytetrayn, the coal-scaled Mechadrake at Caillou's left hand bared his razor whites at his huge bronze brother. His wings pumped furiously in a blur of black and gold as he struggled to maintain his grip on the dangerous snare. Nytetrayn's hands were unprotected, and the thorns bit into his palms, drawing thick ropes of oily blood. 

"Satan up a tree! Calm down, Atticus!" 

Atticus 15 would do no such thing. The monster somehow managed to lash an ivory horn through the net, goring a red furrow in Caillou's right thigh. Instincts and terror screamed through the boy's blood as hellish pain flew up his body like a hotwire. But he swallowed the cry that begged to escape him and pulled his end of the rope harder. Atticus 15's wings cracked like a whip as he clapped them once. Hot black blood spat on the Diamondback's face. His throbbing leg started to lock up, and his mind started to go numb. He couldn't keep this up forever… 

Then, all at once, the storm exhausted itself and slowly poured to the ground like a mudslide, whimpering. 

Caillou and the other Diamondbacks dared to ease off slightly, panting, checking themselves and noticing for the first time the real extent of their wounds. It was all done very sloppily, but not even Eden's inhabitants could net and fight against a bronze Mechadrake without some exhaustion. The room spun around Caillou, but he didn't dare to sit down, even with the red brook cascading down his leg. 

Asmodeus 12 hadn't moved during the whole ordeal that took place only a few feet from his face. He was perched in his usual spot like a great white owl, sense and sane thought chewed by age and battle, but wily cunning still very much intact. 

"Thank you for your quick response Diamondbacks," he said evenly. "Let Atticus cool down. Then we'll talk. I don't appreciate attempts on my life." 

When Atticus gave no more signs of unrest, Asmodeus 12 gave the word to remove the net. Nytetrayn grimly threw off the restraints with scarred paws. Atticus hoisted himself up onto his hind legs like a trick bear, covered in toothy puncture marks. All 10 feet of his deformed frame glimmered softly in the false light of the Great Tree. 

Atticus, for all his bulky terror, temper, and intimidation, was not too spiffy an example of Mechadrake royalty and construction. Somewhere in the tube, something had gone wrong. Atticus' last two fingers on his right hand and first three fingers on his left were respectively fused into a webbed, clawed mass that could strangle and break nothing. His wing-membranes were shriveled like dried animal skins, too stunted to ever have any hope of getting his dense skeleton off the ground. His teeth jutted out of his lower jaw at crazy angles, and his eyes were two jade mirror-pools, reflecting everything they saw, and letting no one in to see. And sleeping always at his side like an extension of his bony hip was his fearsome crossbow, a vicious wolverine of a weapon that no one in Eden really cared to ever meet the happy end of. In spite of his dwarfed hands, the Mechadrake was a one-shot. 

Asmodeus 12 drummed his fingers together. "Now then, Attie…what seems to be troubling you?" 

Atticus 15 grunted, clenched his fists, and made some guttural sounds. He never had very much to say for himself. 

Asmodeus 12 never seemed to have a problem understanding his bronze "brother." "I understand, Atticus. You're worried about your human? You're wondering where I sent him?" 

Atticus made some noise in the affirmative. 

"Well friend, I've been repeating myself over and over since I sent him off a month ago. But my vocal chords can use the workout, so what the hell. Your boy was sent to live and fight with the Maverick Hunters for a little while. I know this upsets you," Asmodeus 12 said quickly as a trembling Mt. Atticus threatened to erupt again, "but your cooperation and understanding in this matter is appreciated, Attie. Your boy is going to catch _her_ for us and bring her here, he's going to do what our worthless friend Torrent Leviathan has failed to do. Once she's here and is turned to us, I'll be very confident of our forces. That could very well be the start of our Circuit Armageddon, the elimination of all reploid life excluding us, the Mechadrakes of Eden." 

Nytetrayn gave a choked laugh at Asmodeus' name for his Armageddon game. 

Asmodeus 12 lashed. "I beg your pardon, Nytetrayn?" 

"Nothing sir." 

"Hmf. At any rate, even if we don't choose to start our Armageddon when she arrives, we'll keep her cool for other uses. Her blood's very valuable, very rare, and even the most docile and subdued human can mother children for our future gain, yes? Do you see, Attie? Your Jody plays a vital part in Eden, as he'll capture and deliver our cataract. You should be proud…" 

Caillou was starting to sway a bit, Asmodeus 12's reasoning with Atticus 15 became fuzz on his brain. It was then that Nytetrayn tugged on his collar and started to lead him away from the Great Tree. 

"Come on," the black Mechadrake said, slinging his arm around the stricken boy's shoulder. "We oughta get that leg of yours fixed up before it goes stiff. Good work today, by the way." 

"Thanks…" Caillou's vision was fading to black. He could only make out Nytetrayn's glittering gold underbelly and membranous wing-webbing. "Heh…think I might…pass out! Couldn't pass out…in front of …Asmodeus, though…" 

"Nah, you don't wanna do that if you know what's good for you." 

Caillou's darkened world seemed to skip a few frames, for all of a sudden he noticed something white bobbing up and down on Nytetrayn's lower lip as he talked, accompanied by the blue smell of tobacco. 

"Nytetrayn…are you smoking?!" 

"Caught me!" The Mechadrake threw the stub of the white stick on the floor and ground it with his foot. "Keep it a secret, okay? It's kind of an unusual behaviour, I don't think it would fly with Asmodeus." 

"I've never heard of a Mechadrake smoking…or ANY reploid for that matter…" 

"They don't. However, I've been listening into my girl's thoughts for too long, I must've picked up the filthy habit from _her…_" 

"Your girl?" 

"Celeste McTreggor. The very same girl Asmodeus was telling Atticus about back there." 

Although he'd been a resident all his life, Caillou was too much of an outsider not to be confused by the ways of Eden. "What do you mean by calling this 'Celeste' chick your 'girl,' Nyte? I also heard Asmodeus 12 refer to Jody as Atticus' 'boy.' What's that all about?" 

Nytetrayn was starting to carry Caillou more than he was actually guiding him. "Well, I think you're a bit too messed to understand it right now," he said, "but I'll give it a try. Children born in Eden are issued a Mechadrake guardian and teacher. More accurately, they bring the beastie to life, and the Mechadrake grows with them. For different reasons, Mechadrakes get very unhappy when they're separated from their 'boy' or 'girl.' They can't fight, they can't concentrate, they become disoriented. In Atticus' case, times that by one thousand. It's a dangerous business, if you ask me. What if one of our kids were to die? Eden Mechadrakes are too unstable to deal with a permanent loss…" 

"Unstable?" 

Nytetrayn scratched behind a golden horn thoughtfully. "Well, yes. Unstable. Eden Mechadrakes don't come from Mechadrake Assemblies Inc. They're…" Nyte searched for words. "They're…well, home grown! Right here in Eden. By a super-aging process called 'Soaking.' I'll explain Soaking in better detail someday, but for now I'll tell you that it doesn't give the Mechadrake's mind adequate time to mature with the biological features of his or her body. One often decides to run off with the other, hence the 'drake's tendency to cling childlike to comforting and familiar things…like their 'boy' or 'girl.' In some cases, Soaking can even leave the Mechadrake's body deformed. You got a good look at Atticus 15, right? What do you say to that?" 

"That's screwed!" Caillou said. "Why not let the Mechadrake develop normally?" 

"Because Asmodeus 12 is an impatient little lizard. How long has he been down here, breeding humans until they've become the brainwashed flock of deadly and beautiful sheep they are today? Years? Decades? Centuries? Hell, not even I know. I was just born in the middle of it all. Asmodeus wants unity, a hive-mind…and, to give him credit, nothing is stronger than the bond between a Mechadrake and his boy. They fight like a real team." 

"So…" Caillou's eyes started to close, but he spit up one more question. "Why…haven't…you gone crazy…without your…girl…like Atticus…has…?" 

"Celeste was taken out of Eden very soon after my birth, Caillou. I had to learn to adapt without her. Thankfully, I incubated in the tube long enough for my brain to develop some sense of independence, so I didn't go totally stark raving mad like I should have. Say, you don't have a Mechadrake, do you?" 

"No…I don't belong. Mom…kinda…went with…someone else…" 

"Aha." Nytetrayn was silent for a second. "Yeah, types like yourself are usually killed. Guess you got spared because of your paternal blood…I'm sure Asmodeus has some use for you. Athough I see that you have an ouroborous band. That's a pisser. Did anyone ever tell you who your father was?" 

"Never heard much about him." 

"Did you ever care to know more?" 

"Not really, no." 

"Probably for the best. Now's not the time…the, uh, circumstances surrounding your happy coming into the world day aren't the most noble on earth." 

Caillou looked alert for the first time. "How do you know?" 

"I know stuff, I'm smart." Nytetrayn dropped his voice to a hiss. "For example, I know how you really feel about this place…that is to say, you think it's a loony bin, and you only stay to honour your mother, not to mention the fact that you have a better chance of drinking the ocean than you do of getting out of here alone and alive. But, like myself, you were born into unfortunate circumstances." 

Caillou's jaw slacked stupidly. "How…how did you know…" 

"Mindspeak," Nytetrayn said simply. "I can't read your thoughts directly, but I can catch wind and current of what you're thinking and feeling. I use Mindspeak to check up on Celeste, though I haven't actually talked to her in years. I prefer she doesn't know I exist for now. She won't remember me when she comes back, but we're going to need her to get out, and we have to get a hold of her before Asmodeus starts making her…comply to the screwed up rules around here." 

"They'd breed her?" 

"Oh, damn right they would! Asmodeus has been frothing to get the McTreggor bloodline into Eden permanently. Sure, they can't FORCE her to do what they want, but they'll find a way to mess her up, they can easily slip something into her food or water, and boom. Instant first-class child-bearing soldier for the (ugh) Circuit Armageddon. But we won't let that happen. But unless I talk to you further, don't say another word about this, don't even THINK about it. Not all Mechadrakes have Mindspeak by any means…not even Asmodeus, although he'd like you to think it. But still, when it comes to Asmodeus 12, you can never be too careful. He's a wily little bastard. Understand?" 

"Yes…sir…" Caillou was a bit overwhelmed, between bleeding his life away and having a formidable black Mechadrake he hardly knew entrust sudden plans of revolution to him alone. 

Nytetrayn heard that. "It's also common sense, Caillou. You're obviously unhappy here. Eden's warriors have every need fulfilled, every desire granted, simply because they're planned stock. They're quite content to serve Asmodeus as long as he provides for them. But you? You're an outcast, you don't get bupkus, you have feelings of unrest. It was Asmodeus' mistake to keep you alive. He's going to regret it later, I promise you." 

Caillou rather liked the sound of that, even though it sent a chill slithering down his back at the same time. 

"In the meanwhile…" Nytetrayn's mood shifted to a toothy grin as he felt a twinge of addiction from his soulmate occupying the world above, and responded by likewise lighting a cigarette, "In the meanwhile, we'll wait for my girl to come home!"


	4. Hawk, Panther, Demon

**Chapter Four: Hawk, Panther, Demon**

For all the changes Kapcom endured daily, for all the pavement was constantly bleached by the harsh light of day, time stood still in the sewers where he lived, time didn't dare flinch in his presence. 

Torrent Leviathan sat with his back rubbing against the cat-tongue textured brick of the sewers he dominated without question. Falling upon a particularly itchy bit, the huge aqua-hued Mechadrake filed his shoulders against the wall, rumbling thoughtfully as he did so. 

"Ah good, nice." He stopped and folded his finned arms across his plated chest. "Even a Mechadrake enjoys a good scratch now and then. And Mechadrakes also love to scratch. Eyes, for example. But you know all about that, don't you my dear?" 

Torrent looked at his latest guest, a deep-skinned woman, her healthy dark tan skin crisscrossed with nasty scars…deep gouges that healed over years ago, rusty and infected. Her hair was thick and sticky with crusted blood. The warrior looked to be in her late twenties, and she lay on her stomach before Torrent, mouth open slightly, bile and blood pooled under it like sewage from a drainpipe. The back of her dark green combat pants was shredded, and in the mucky light, Torrent could see the Mark on her ankle. His powerful mind devised a story to go with the unconscious fop. 

"Lucky you, you're Marked. You're from Asmodeus 12's stock, eh? That little jackal always annoyed me. I did some recruiting for him a few years back, I would bring fresh prospects into his cruddy Eden, or whatever the hell he calls it. I even landed him that slippery little Jake McTreggor for his army. Is it _my_ fault that he didn't hang onto him tightly enough and he slid away? Tries to put the blame on me. Huh. Well, I'll tell you this much, missy. I've had just about enough of the Inheritors of Eden, and I wish them the success of the Edmund Fitzgerald." 

The woman hiccuped in her sleep and her lungs drained themselves a little more. 

Torrent raised his dirt caked snout in the air and sniffed deeply of his rank stable. "What did you do to deserve being hacked up like that, dear?" he said. "Perhaps you spoke out? Maybe you woke up from the brainwashing, maybe it didn't latch to your mind and suck all the sense out like a leech on a wound? Maybe you're just a strange duck. Or maybe you went with another man, one Assie didn't give to you. Yes, I'm willing to bet that's it. Who did you lie with? How were you found out? You broke the rules, you were to be slain accordingly; your own Mechadrake was turned against you. Not a hard feat if you have a Caller whistle. You must be damned good to have survived this long…seems as if you've been hunted all your life…until you somehow stumbled into my home. Eden probably marked you for dead ages ago." 

The aqua-coloured Mechadrake raised his massive frame off the ground as easily as a snake slipping up a tree. "Well…" 

Torrent flicked a mite off his arm. 

"…that's THEIR mistake." 

Torrent fell silent and chattered with his own thoughts for a second. _You need a hobby. Project!_

"You will survive," the serpent tenderly assured the mouse that was within a few hours of presenting herself to Death in a puddle of her own bodily fluids, "and you will help me put a right end to things. I _do_ need a project." 

  
  


"Habitat sweet habitat…" 

The wind slithered through the dried husks of grass that spiked the Skeleton Grasslands. Unhindered by the skyscrapers of the city, it flew as it pleased, like a hunter-spirit, screaming, swooping, supreme ruler of the poisoned plains where humans feared to tread. It embraced a fellow predator, Phoenix, who stood oblivious to her cold cousin's hug as she looked down at the rubble of Doppler's old fortress that lay like the fossilized bones of a once formidable beast. The rack of fire atop Stag's head danced with the wind's fury. 

"Home." 

Overdrive walked with his head stooped against the invisible knife that cut at him. 

"Doppler's fortress, where we grew, where we learned so much…" 

Silence but for the screaming spirit. 

"…let's go find that hot dog tree we planted!" 

With a wild whoop, Phoenix leaped in the air and gave herself to the wind for the first time in years. The wild breeze took her with passion, running itself through her luxurious fire-feathers like eager fingers. She lifted off the ground effortlessly, supported by her only love, and blood red plumage embraced the orange sky, fluttering like a banner. With a primal scream that streaked across the sky like a lance, Phoenix dove for the place of her birth. As shattered as it was, for all it reminded the Mavericks of their defeat and the utter stupidity they exhibited at times, the fortress symbolized the end of their shameful wandering, and the beginning of rebirth. As often as it was said, it never felt any less good to say it… 

"This time, we'll rebuild! We _will not_ fail!" 

  
  


The reploid panther's jade eyes cut into its opponent, its deceptively soft hind paws making no noise on the narrow metal girder of the rafter. A growl trembled from somewhere inside its dark guts, sheathed within a silver breast and stomach plate. It carried a huge poweraxe in both forepaws, naked jet-black legs tensed to throw its full weight into the coming swing. Its tail waved slowly, feeling the situation. 

On the other side of the beam, his red and gold armour screaming in discord, Zero held his pulsating lightsabre to one side as he beckoned with his other hand. 

"You big hugable housecat, you!" 

The panther, Seven, flattened his ears in a jaguar scream and charged. A clumsy weapon like an axe wasn't such a hot idea for a creature of supposed stealth and grace; the weight of the swing overbalanced Seven. He missed Zero by a British mile, staggered with the extra bulk, lost his footing and briefly resembled a squirrel on an icy roof as his limbs splayed in all directions. The huge cat fell off the perch with a final war cry: 

"Zepplin ruuuuuuuuuuuuuules!" 

Thud. 

Zero peered over the rafter in disgust. Seven lay flat on his face on the hardwood of the training room floor. 

"You're supposed to land on your FEET you lummox!" the Hunter shouted irritably at his subordinate. "What kind of a cat are you?" 

Seven groggily sat up. "Ain't my fault! Programming mix up. Someone put my head circuits where my feet should be." 

"You mean someone put your brain circuits where your arse should be! What the hell are you doing with a poweraxe? You're a panther! Use your claws, your teeth, rip out jugulars and leap like a pretty ballerina the whole time. That's the joy of being what you are." 

Seven flattened his ears ever-so-slightly at his commander and gathered up the dented weapon. "I _like_ my axe, Zero. You want to try to make me give it up? Come on down and I'll carve The Birth of Man all over that pretty little hide of yours!" 

Insubordination. Quickly, Zero glanced around the huge training area. He apparently wasn't the only one stuck with a surly, hopeless unit. Terribly out of practice after months of peace time, none of the commanders had much bothered with regular training for their units. They'd always filled in their training logcards with exaggerated hours to satisfy Cain every week, then yiffed off to get drunk and play ping pong. 

Then came the merry day Cain decided he would personally watch the Hunters in training. The moment Cain sat down to observe his pride, the toxic lies on the logcards leaked out of containment and poisoned the Hunters and their commanders, and knowing that the Big Cheese was watching them wallow in their own lies infected them with panic, incompetence, rebellion, and unadulterated stupidity. 

Below the rafters, on the plane of those who could not jump to such tremendous heights, Celeste was having problems of her own. One of her rookies simply stood like a drooling gork as the black training droid in front of him smashed him repeatedly in the face, point blank. Celeste, driven into a frenzy by the fact that Cain was evaluating her, reverted into a totally different entity. She frisked up and down the sidelines like an alley cat on the prowl, spouting profanities. 

"SMITH! Good MORNING! Are you hungover AGAIN? You wanker, you'll break your mother's heart! Don't just sit there, you're getting your ass kicked! Fight back, you masochistic bastard!" 

The droid slowly advanced on the stoned young man and eventually had him crushed against the wall. Still Smith did nothing, but Zero caught a glimpse of his face turning blue. 

"Jesus Christ in a chariot-driven sidecar!" Celeste snatched up a nearby folding chair and brought it down on the droid's triangular head with all the strength her little body could muster. The droid wailed and backed off like a beaten cur before it buckled and fizzed out. Smith likewise crumpled to the ground, his mouth agape and bloody. Seething, Celeste hauled him off to see Genesis in the Medical Unit. 

Seven was still sizing up Zero. Out of the corner of his eye, Zero stole a glance at the booth where Cain sat. The scientist had very "I-may-not-show-emotion-very-well-but-boy-am-I-pissed" look on his face, and it was slowly deepening into a lovely shade of crimson. The old man didn't appreciate being taken for a fool. Zero figured Cain wouldn't be in the mood to watch the leader of his life's project, the Maverick Hunters, get pushed around by a kitten newcomer that had a Freudian obsession with his axe. 

"Seven," Zero said slowly, "you don't want to make me come down there." 

"Har." 

"It _will_ hurt. And besides, Cain is evaluating us all right now on our performance, including ability to follow orders. So be good and look busy." 

Seven spread his arms wide. "What's he watching for? What's he making us train like this for? Cain KNOWS we suck. Does he have to prove it to us?" 

Before Zero could respond, Seven sprang merrily away. Zero heaved a sigh. Sure, it was fine and dandy to preach anti-war like a stoked hippie, but the sad reality was that the creatures of earth, especially humans, needed war to keep their asses in check and give them a goal to strive for. Otherwise, they ended up a bunch of rear-scratching Joes with sloppy guts. Humans were fighters at heart. 

X passed underfoot (literally) and looked up, noticing his treed friend for the first time. 

"Hi there!" he called up. "Come on down, cat. You look frazzled. I'll buy you some milk, we'll talk." 

"Will the milk be spiked with some Irish Cream? 'cause if it isn't, I ain't getting up off this here rafter." 

"I'll see what Cass can arrange." 

"Good enough." Zero slid off his perch, dangled for half a second, swung around once completely and flipped to land neatly in front of X . 

"Bah," was all X had to say. 

Zero grinned. 

"You don't like Seven," X said. It wasn't a question. 

"Damn right," Zero growled. "And I'll thank you very much for dumping him on me." 

"Hey, what can I say. He was too good for the 17th, and he was so damn eager to advance. I don't have any control over certain things." 

The two friends stood in relative silence and watched the horrid training ongoing around them. 

"This is pretty sad," X said slowly. "Anyway…yeah. Seven. He's a ferocious fighter all right, and he swings a mean axe when he wants to. But watch him. He kicks people when they're down. That's how he advanced in the ranks." 

"Oh, for…" Zero clamped his hand down on his helmet in despair. "Things really HAVE gone to hell in a handbasket around here! They promoted a dishonourble soldier?!" 

X shrugged weakly. "Maverick disposal is Maverick disposal. And Seven is good. We don't backstab as badly as the Mavericks, but we're far from innocent, Zero." 

"Hmph. I smell insurrection on that pissy synthetic fur of his." 

"That's why I told you to watch your back. He eyes your leadership of the Special Class 0 like a pretty woman's curves." 

Celeste reentered the gym, brushing off her hands. "Speaking of pretty women…" Zero muttered. 

X noticed a sudden severe shift in Zero's nonchalant demenour when the silver-haired tracker, Jody, suddenly bounded, catlike, out of nowhere to stand beside Celeste. It was like being beside a dog who went from wagging his tail to bearing his teeth in a second flat. 

X's eyes grew wide. "That is some severe hostility," he said in alarm. "Zero! I mean, you…holy fish! What's up with Jody that you should hate him so much?" 

"Look at him X, just look at him…" 

X peered at the couple across the gym. He recognized the flaunty body language of Jody, the grinning, the utter uninterested air that Celeste radiated as she turned away from Jody's empty prattle. 

"Bunnies in springtime," X said wistfully. "No big deal." 

"No, don't look at _them_, look at _him._ Seven just pisses me off, and I think he's a whiny little jerk, but Jody…he's far too keen and cunning for any human. Look at those eyes, those movements. He knows what he's doing. And he has no compassion. I think he might end up hurting Celeste somehow." 

X peered harder, but he didn't see any of the hawklike qualities that Zero pointed out. He just saw a boy with unusual silver hair who was trying to make a pass at his commander. The blue Hunter shrugged. 

"Zero, you need to relax. Lots of guys have made passes at Celeste at inappropriate times before, and you've just boxed their ears in. What's stopping you now?" 

Zero sighed. "X, you don't understand me at all if you feel that way…it's not so much what he's doing as the fact that he…he…well…" Zero trailed off like a wound up music box that was running out of spring. 

He stopped completely for about three seconds. 

"You're right…what the hell _is_ stopping me?!" 

  
  


Celeste inwardly shared many of Zero's outlooks on Jody…but she was his commanding officer, and she had to show him respect. 

"Miss McTreggor." The silver haired hawk swooped out of nowhere and alighted silently beside Celeste. "Miss McTreggor…I must apologize for Smith's disgraceful performance…" 

"Why are you apologizing, Jody?" Celeste asked, though she knew full well that the boy wanted an excuse to talk to her. "You had nothing to do with his drinking." 

"I felt the need to apologize anyway. We are all one." 

"Well…lovely. Now please, get back to training. Cain's gonna roast our asses after this is done, so let's give him SOMETHING worth praising." 

Jody was not easily shaken. Wherever she seemed to move, Celeste found that Jody circled her slowly, like a tiger shark about to kill, talking the whole while, causing her to drop her guard. 

On and on he droned about nothing at all. Celeste tried to pay no mind, telling him to get back to work, but his voice slid around her like a friendly serpent, smooth as honeyed lotus, pleasant, sleepy, hypnotic, a rowboat on gentle sea waves. Celeste snapped to full attention again when she _thought_ she heard the words, _"you will be mine, you'll be by my side"_ from some far distant plane… 

"Wuh…what did you just say, Jody?" 

Jody reached for her arm like a talon. "I said…" 

Jody was suddenly splayed against the wall like a dead bug. Zero was beside Celeste, cracking his bloodied knuckles. 

"Don't pull any of that mating season crap on your commanding officer," the crimson and gold warrior advised the leather-vested portrait of roadkill. "It is quite unprofessional." 

Jody peeled himself from the wall and groggily raised a hand to the huge purple welt that slowly blossomed where Zero had punched him. He looked up at the sleek reploid with disbelieving eyes and back down at his hand, which was smeared with blood. 

Then he did something quite surprising. 

Whereas even the hardiest of reploids would have run home crying with their tail between their legs at a clout from Zero, a fire simply ignited in Jody's icy eyes. That's when Zero noticed for the first time the formidable but beautifully light and effective weapon that was coiled at the boy's side…one single sickle blade of some unknown metal on the end of a chain… 

That was all Zero had time to see before the silvery adder lashed out and buried the blade in his chest armour. 

What happened for the next ten minutes was all blood, oil, leather, gold and silver in one big tangled ball. Zero bellowed like Cass the badger on a drinking binge, but more out of surprise than pain. Lucky for the Crimson Wonder, the blade didn't cut too deep past his armour… 

But only, Zero realized later when the event had passed, because Jody hadn't wanted it to. 

The blade ripped out of the blood red breastplate, leaving a gaping hole. Zero was fluent in the warrior's dialect, he knew when he was issued a challenge. His lightsabre was out and he was on Jody's head in one motion. 

And the boy fought like a little demon from hell. 

Time and time again the chain glanced off Zero, the blade gouged furrows in his face and hands, the blood was tremendous. But Jody was by no means untouched. He was burned, slashed, pumping, and he just didn't stop. The two were landlocked, feeding each other's fire, colossal beings. 

That's when Seven came padding out of nowhere. Before anyone could stop him, he leaped into the air, axe raised high above his catty head. 

_ "Woo HOOO!" _

The axe came down on Zero's shoulder. _Now_ the Hunter screamed in pain as the axe head bit deep into his arm, severing vital wires. A new vein of blood whooshed open to join the black crescendo. 

Not that blood loss had ever stopped Zero before. 

Blood made him hog wild. 

The Hunter rose to his feet like some variety of storybook Lucifer, screaming in rage, arms flayed out. He tossed Seven off his back like a wild horse bucking a rider, and below him, he kicked Jody square in the stomach with a massive red hoof. The boy was certainly forced to yield at that point. He rolled on the gym floor, yelping in pain, vomiting blood. 

As for Seven… 

Zero had the poor panther by his neck, and he was not squeezing any less harder with each passing second. Seven's ears were flattened so seamlessly against the rest of his head that it seemed as if he had no ears at all; his green eyes were turning white, and were rolling madly. Zero shook him like a rag doll, and the cat's supple body bent and twisted with each assault like a hanged man in the wind. 

Zero was gone; a huge red demon with burning eyes, blazing gold hair, and a cavernous mouth that frothed like a hell-steed's was in his place, squeezing the life out of Seven. 

The gym was as silent as a graveyard. No one moved. No one wanted to see Seven die, but no one could turn away from the gruesome sight, the roaring beast. No one dared to touch Zero, he was a live-wire… 

_"You little bastard, you son of a ditch-whore! I will NOT stand for insurrection! Try to kill me, will you? I think Old Man Splitfoot would like to chat with YOU instead! Go on Seven! Go meet him! Tell him I couldn't make it this time around--!"_

"ZERO! THIS STOPS RIGHT NOW!" 

Forgotten, Cain's voice fell on the gym like a cool mist. His insides wet with icy water, the blood drained from Zero's eyes and he gave Seven some slack. The panther took a huge gasp of air and sank to the ground beside Jody, like a sack of potatoes. 

There was Zero again, hands limp at his sides, sweating blood, all eyes on him. He didn't know what to say. 

But Cain did. 

The old man rose stiffly out of his point of observation, his Olympus. He stared down every man and woman in the entire gym. 

"What I have seen here today has saddened me greatly. I am just shocked and appalled. And there is no need for me, I think, to waste my breath explaining why. BUT THAT AIN'T GONNA STOP ME! I just want you to know that I have never even HEARD of such a DISASTEROUS display of 'training.' Sex, and drinking, and God only knows what all you commanders were smoking when you thought you would fool me by screwing with the logcards. Hell, all we needed was a little bit of 'Welcome to the Jungle' in the background, a tape recorder, and we would've had a damn fine music video! But never mind the training in itself. I want to get to the real issues at hand. Jody! Zero! Seven!" 

Only Zero was in any condition to step forward to endure the god's wrath. 

"Zero," Cain said quietly, almost sadly. "I understand your anger towards Seven…and your disciplinary action taken against Jody…but what you became…what you were…that was not you." 

For the first time in his life, Zero couldn't look his mentor in the eyes. He looked off to the side, hands linked insecurely behind his back. No, that hadn't been him. But he knew damn well who it was, and it had to do with the extremely unpleasant fact that he was the bloodthirsty, synthetic offspring of a crazy guy in a crazy labcoat with crazy hair. He knew this. No one else did. But he was sure they were taking some pretty damn good guesses by now. 

"Zero," Cain said almost friendly. "Is there something you'd like to tell us?" 

Zero swallowed hard. "No, sir," he could barely say above a whisper. "Except…I'm sorry…" 

The lull was gone in Cain's voice. "It doesn't become you to hide like a thief in the night, my boy! Your violence is getting out of hand! One more display like this, and I'll have to consider relieving you of your duties. It is NOT setting a good example of self discipline by strangling your subordinates. Shocked and appalled! Yes indeed! And Seven! Attacking Zero like that? What the hell is wrong with you? Someone has itchy pants. I'm guessing you either got caught up in the moment, or you wanted to off Zero and take his place. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt and reporting the former. One more fiasco like THAT, however, and you'll be demoted as well! Then you can both scrub toilets together and speak of the good old days! Oh, you'll become best buddies THEN, I promise you that!" I ought to flay your hide for insubordination, but seeing as how Zero nearly killed you, I figure the two events cancel each other out." 

Seven was too busy bleeding out of his ears to pay Cain any mind. 

"And Jody, it doesn't do you well to hit on Celeste. Turn your hypothalamus once in a while, listen to the birds singing in the trees instead of the testosterone singing in your veins! It'll do you good." 

Jody was too busy trying to breathe to listen to Cain's aged wisdom. 

"Shocked and appalled! All of you! You'll all get your behinds out of bed by four tonight, and you'll see how fast you remember to take your training seriously when your breakfast is at stake…" 

And so it went on. Zero was becoming disturbed by Cain's furious reddening, his ragged, frail breathing, his clouded eyes. The Crimson One had worked with Genesis as a doctor's assistant years ago upon first arriving at Maverick Hunter HQ…he recognized the body language Cain was radiating…he was going from red to pale…still he raged…his words started to slur…still he raged…he clutched his left arm, sweating…still he raged…and Zero fairly screamed. 

"Cain! Sir! Calm down, please! Your heart! If you don't settle down NOW, you'll have a--!" 

It happened. 


	5. Homecomings

**Chapter 5: Homecomings**

"Gen…?" 

Celeste McTreggor leaned forward, hanging onto the doorjamb of the Medical Unit. Genesis, the undisputed leader of the Field of Cots, had his back to the Huntress, his fox-tail swishing thoughtfully. He didn't answer. 

"Gen, is he all right?" 

The fuzzball cocked his head. "I heard what you guys did to push poor Cain over the edge," he said in a low tone. "I won't tell you what I think of you right now, miss McTreggor, because you're a lady, and my friend. Be assured, however, that I kicked Zero's teeth in. Twice. Once for you." 

"Uh…thanks?" 

Genesis crossed the room and lighted on a nearby bed. He sat with his legs crossed. "You're quite welcome. Cain will be just fine with some rest. Lots and lots of rest. Far away from here. Let's not mince words…he's an old fart. He can't keep on top of things the way he used to, as is evident by the way you Unit leaders let your Hunters revert from champions back into stick-swinging tree shrew spawn. In the old days, he would've kicked your asses good and proper before that happened. But the human mind and body starts to leak after a few good years. Activate, consume, reproduce and DIE, that's the circle of life that you glorified monkeys follow and are doomed to follow until the end of time. I'm quite happy to be a cut above it, being among the reploid race thank you very much." 

Celeste didn't fight the conviction; there was no fighting with Genesis. Besides, he was pretty much right about everything. 

"Can I go see him?" 

The reploid fox re-adjusted the beloved scarf that coiled his neck like a friendly slice of sunshine. It was the only real spot of interesting colour in his primarily maroon and silver attire. 

"Sure, what the hell. Throw yourself a party."   
  


Cain's private room was soothingly dark. Medical machines purred unseen in the background like big protective cats. Coupled with the relieving sound of Cain's untroubled sleep, it was a comforting place to be in. 

Zero, glowing dull red in the lesser darkness, was beside the doc, watching him. For an instant, Celeste was reminded of the way Zero had sat beside her bed watching over her while she had been lost in a deep black bog of viral-induced unconsciousness, her body struggling to stay alive after being infected with a strange disease courtesy of Torrent Leviathan during the first Maverick War. For all Zero's love of ripping things apart and occasionally kicking puppies, the blood-red reploid had an excellent bedside manner. 

Zero was holding the dried up hand of his elderly mentor, talking in a low tone. As he caught wind of Celeste's approach, he quickly dropped the shriveled paw. 

Celeste seated herself just behind Zero in the same cross-legged manner as Genesis had perched on the bed earlier. "Forget it, big fellow," she said. "I know you, you're soft when it comes to sick critters. How's Cain?" 

To her surprise, the spectre answered for Zero. "I've seen better days, dear. Like the time I got hit by that runaway Landchaser that, for whatever reason known only to God, was tearing through the lower hallways of the HQ…" 

"I was driving that!" Zero said brightly. 

Cain's voice dropped off like a bar of lead in a well. 

"It was a derby," Zero explained. 

"Oh…of course. How utterly stupid of me to get in the way." 

A change of subject was an order. "Cain, Genesis tells me you're going to be taking a rest," Celeste said. 

"Yes, I was considering a long vacation away from here. I was just telling Zero of my plans." 

"But who would…" 

"…run the HQ? My son, of course." 

Celeste's jaw went slack. "Daaaaah…" 

"That was pretty much my reaction too," Zero said. "I knew Cain was married once before but I never knew he had a critter. I don't know anything about this-Cain, did you say your spawn's name was?" 

"Monroe." The scientist suddenly sounded very tired. "Trust me, I don't want to leave him in charge…but he's my legal heir, so that's that. Messy divorce issue that I'd rather not get into. But if I don't take a rest now, I'll end up exploding or something, according to Genesis. And I'd much rather leave Monroe in charge for a short time as opposed to permanently." 

Cain was winding down. He needed sleep. But he managed to keep his eyes open long enough to toss one more bad-news potato in the stew of Ill Happenings: "That reminds me. Reconstruction of Iris is almost complete. Things'll slow down in my state, but the lab tecchies can finish things off nicely." 

Celeste and Zero squirmed. 

Timely Genesis kicked open the door to Cain's room at that moment, flooding the warm darkness with a harsh light that attacked their eyes. 

"Ouuut!" 

Celeste and Zero stood up to take their leave. 

"Thanks for visiting, kids," Cain said. "Take care of the Hunters. Be good." He turned over and wheezed a sigh like a leaky bagpipe. 

Celeste and Zero made their way to Salamandastron's Illusion, their footsteps sounding around the empty hallways like the hooves of nervous ponies. 

"I have this bloody awful evil feeling that things will be much different around here," Zero murmured more to himself than to Celeste, although she agreed completely. 

  
  


Bloody awful evil Phoenix kicked open the door to Doppler's critically injured fortress, flooding the murky darkness with the soft light of sunset. A host of rats and roaches scurried away at the assult of daylight. The fortress hosted the pong of the dead, an overpowering musk that whapped Phoenix in the beak like a shifty boxer. 

"AAAACK, blind me what a bloody stench!" Phoenix staggered backwards. 

The smell was by no means pleasant, but Flame Stag decided that there was no need for dramatics. He passed through the small opening that his superior had kicked in the tremendous gate. The gate was layered with steel like a jawbreaker - layers that were now hideously weakened and peeling away with rust. 

The Main Hall. 

Not for any price would Flame Stag ever let his leader see the lonely tears that welled up in his red eyes as a massive recollection of memories hit him. In the bad light, the stag saw bits of his former partners half buried under rubble. Spark Mandrill, Storm Eagle, Toxic Seahorse in a blue baseball cap. They'd all been killed mercilessly, unarmed, by X and his pig-dog Hunters during their last invasion. Shot like fish in a barrel. Of course, the Mavericks had the same idea for the Hunters, but that was beside the point. 

Phoenix wasn't at all moved by the sight of the dead Mavericks. "Gung-ho, what-a-mess." She picked up something ratty off the floor. It was Storm Eagle's wing, mouse-chewed and slimy with mildew. She dropped it quickly. "Ick." 

Overdrive trotted in and dropped immediately to the floor. "Footprints!" 

Phoenix and Stag looked blank. 

"In the dust! Recent! Someone's…_living_ here!" 

"Stand up, Overdrive," Phoenix grunted. "And settle down. You look like you're tracking pigs with Jack Merridew." 

But sure enough, in the thick carpet of dust that feathered the floor, there were footprints. Very very large footprints…footprints that were big enough to belong to…" 

"Violen!" 

Violen was packed into a small room, sitting on a chair that was entirely too teeny for his bear-sized body. His stout legs were stretched out comfortably before him (although they hit the opposite wall) as he reclined, his small, round pig-face lit up with a tusked grin. "You all sure took your time finding us again," he remarked, his voice noticeably rusty from spending so much time in the dank underground. His pink and yellow body armour was faded, its colour washed out. But he looked content. 

"Us…?" 

Neon Tiger entered the room at that instant. "Hey Vio, any idea where my black stockings are and ho ho ho hello miss Phoenix, uh, nevermind what I just said, I'm a good boy, I've really missed yeh, and I gotta go over here now…" Neon flattened his little ears against his feral head and slunk into a nearby shadow. 

Vio turned back to Phoenix after giving Neon a good glare. "Nevermind that idiot," he grunted. "But we ARE glad to have you guys back. We've been waiting forever. Now, I'll admit, there were times when our confidence flagged, and we had unholy thoughts of leaving. But then one fellow showed up at our doorstep, covered with mud and slime, screaming deliriously about finding the Blue Crystal Staff while swinging a stick at us. We cleaned him up and all that…once he got his marbles back, he wouldn't stop gushing about how much he was wanting to see you. We figured if he could be so enthused about your return, we could stand the damp a bit longer…" 

Phoenix grew tired of Vio's run on sentences. "Who is 'he'?" 

Neon re-materialized. "He's really down now cuz he's lost hope that you'd ever show up…good thing you're here to thaw him out…" 

"WHO IS 'HE', YOU FETISH-SOAKED TOMCAT?" 

"Meep." Frightened, Neon pointed to the far corner. 

Phoenix trotted over to study it, her inner heat searing away the damp layers darkness that swathed- 

"Wheel Gator?" 

Presumably. The muddy thing slumped in the corner was little better than a green stump. The corners of Gator's jaws were anchored to the dirty floor in a sad clown grimace. On the very top of his static head sat an empty beer can. 

"Neon!" Phoenix snapped as she whapped the can off Gator's head. 

"What?" 

For once in her bastard's life, Phoenix was touched. Touched by the sight of this great green lump, feeble as he was, waiting faithfully, unmoving, for her return, patiently playing the part of the coaster while it all happened. Faithful despite the fact that Phoenix had very much left him to die at the hands of the Hunters when Vile was last defeated… 

"Gator…my dear Gator…" Phoenix gently tipped the sad reptile's chin up. Her shimmering light lit up Gator's eyes like slit candles. They danced into reality. 

"Miss…Phoenix….?" 

"Little Gator…" 

Phoenix got a lovely view of the ceiling as Gator pounced on her like a love starved dog. 

"PHOENIX! YOU CAME BACK! These two…they said you'd never come back and that you didn't love me 'cuz I smelled, but I knew they were lying, I did I did, I knew you loved me, I knew you'd be back, let's play a game!" 

Flame Stag and Overdrive Ostrich gently lifted Gator's happily squirming body off their leader. Phoenix took a gasp of air into her starving lungs. 

"Yes Gator, it's wonderful to see you too. And we'll play games. Oh my oh my will we ever. Now that we're all together and happy again, we're going to rebuild and kick this city's ass once more, Vile or no Vile, Siggy or no Siggy." 

Wheel snuffed happily. 

"Overdrive," Phoenix said. "Those bodies in the main hall…do you think it's possible to rebuild some of them?" 

Overdrive scratched under his chin thoughtfully. "It would certainly be a challenge that I'm up to." 

"Happy to hear it. As for the rest of you…" Phoenix kicked over Vio's chair, and the piggy reploid flew a short distance before splattering on the ground, "get to work. Dig through this rubble. Start patching stuff up, this damp air is dulling my feathers. If you find anything of interest, bring it here. 3, 2, 1, GO!!" 

  
  


She was smoking, and so was Nytetrayn. 

The black Mechadrake reclined in his cold warren, watching the tobacco smoke curl like the breath of an ancient dragon-spectre. The rich blue scent chased out the damp smell of the warren. Nyte's thoughts turned to Caillou. His leg was mended now, that was fine, but it was obvious that the boy was in a great deal of pain. But he didn't say a word about it. Nor would he ever. And he'd be at training the next day, because he knew what was good for him. 

Caillou wanted out of Eden, and not just because the place was Loony Tunes. The bond between the warriors of Eden was tremendous, but Caillou had no part in it. Humans were social, and it was not possible for the boy to thrive in his warren. 

Or Nytetrayn, for that matter. Asmodeus 12 looked to the black for his physical strength and unnatural cunning (black Mechadrakes were not often blessed in the thinking department) - But Assie did not trust him for a second. Because he was cunning. Because he was an odd piece that did not fit quite right into the puzzle unless you hit him a few times. Because, despite all this, the black Mechardake was eager to serve Eden. 

Too eager. 

It just smelled bad. 

And Asmodeus' 'cause' was bogus. If he wants to give this world back to the humans, I'm a lizard, the Mechadrake thought. 

Nytetrayn guessed his days in Eden were limited. If he wanted to survive, he needed out. And because it was practical, he'd bring Caillou with him. 

And then what? 

Nytetrayn hadn't gotten that far yet. 

Sooner or later, his girl, Celeste, would end up back in Eden. He supposed he'd get her the hell out, too. 

And then what? 

No, Nytetrayn was definitely parked at that spot. But it would all come in time. He was confident. 

With Caillou, he'd think of a plan. Eden could not be left standing. A world run by Asmodeus 12 was a world better off locked in a galactic nuthouse. And Caillou had tremendous potential. It was a shame he was never told who his father was, or he might have more confidence. But perhaps it was best that he just develop his skills through experience instead of on a name. 

In that vein… 

Celeste had finished her smoke. Nytetrayn threw his own butt onto the floor and ground it with his foot into the warren's dirt. She was tired now, poor child. She'd had a stressful day. Something was bothering her, something about the so called Maverick Hunters that existed in a world far above Nyte's. 

_She's about to have much bigger problems. She doesn't remember a thing about Eden, and she'll soon be dragged back here. Maybe it's best I ease her in slowly and try to remind her of a few things… _

Sure, why not. Nytetrayn reclined further, laced his paws behind his head, puffed a small ring of smoke, and eased into sleep, tuning into Celeste's channel on the Dream Network. 

  
  


_She's dying, Jake. You can't deny it._

Jake McTreggor looked at little bundle before him, his little girl flushed and gasping for breath in a haze of pain so intense, it rendered her semi-conscious. Her sweat soaked the sheets of the hospital bed that held her nonchalantly. It did not care if she died. What was one more? No one cared, no one could help. No one knew what was wrong, but they would not admit it… 

"My girl, my poor girl," Jake wept, taking her broken body into his big hands and hugging her against his chest. 

_You can save her, Jake…_

"My little girl…" 

_Just come see me. I'll show you the way…_

Celeste convulsed violently. 

_She's only four, you can't let her die this early in life…_

"Fight it love, fight it…" 

_Come now, be reasonable…_

"Where's your mother, where's your ma, why hasn't she come back? Oh God, she has to come back, God, stop me from what I'm going to do…oh little Celeste, dear heart, please forgive me for where I'm about to take you, for what I'm about to get you involved in. I can't watch you die, I'm just a big suck…you're all I have…" 

_Torrent. You win. Show us the way._

_Now I've got you. I'll take care of you._

Nytetrayn hit a bump on the dream-path. His girl greatly disturbed by this telepathic intravenous feeding. She flopped over like a banked fish in her sleep, but this had to be done. 

How did Jake sneak out of the hospital with his dying daughter? Even more curious, how did he find his way to Eden, a place that was, Nytetrayn had been told, concealed so seamlessly that it made Efrafa look like a Las Vegas night club? Nytetrayn had no idea, and he could not relay the information to Celeste. The dream simply skipped forward like a record skipping to a new song. 

Jake was sobbing, on his knees, clutching his near-dead offspring to his chest. The hollow noises of the Great Tree surrounded him. The sounds of corpses simply existed for the sake of existing, never aware of the fact that their souls had been sucked out of their dry shells eons ago. 

"It's okay, Jacob," Asmodeus 12 soothed the big man, his breath reeking with the souls of his warriors. "It's okay now. Everything…will…be…fine." 

Asmodeus' husked arms were lowered slowly by his last words like a drawbridge. "Everything…will be…okay…calmly now…and quickly…you know what to do…" 

Jake's body shuddered furiously with weepy hiccups as he gently set Celeste in those dry, scaly arms before him. They swallowed her up immediately. Torrent Leviathan stepped up silently beside Asmodeus 12 and took one glance at the burning child. 

"Urathax," he said simply, looking upon Jake for the first time. It was also Jake's first meeting with the Master of his Mind, and he hated the stinking water Mechadrake, he hated the grin in his eyes that screamed, "I win!", he hated the Mavericks in the world above him, and he hated reploids in general. If they all died and went to hell, it'd be too good for them. 

But that was another matter… 

"Urathax," he repeated slowly. It wasn't quite a question. 

"World War III had a field day with human genetic codes, Jacob McTreggor. But you, with your Mindspeak, know that. Some people would say - if they knew about Mindspeak - that it's a blessing, and advantage for the human race. I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions. But I can very well say that urathax is not nearly as beneficial. Rare genetic disease brought on by mutation through the radiation. Parents can harbour it for generations before it gets passed on to a child. There is no cure for it...no cure that _humans_ know of, mind you. Your Celeste was quite unlucky." 

"But her wasting away and forcing me to give her to you to cure her is quite advantageous to YOU now isn't it?" Jake puffed in a husky voice that burned with hate. 

"Why deny it?" Torrent grinned. He tipped up Celeste's face into the light with one claw - a claw, that Jake noticed nervously, came a bit too close to his helpless daughter's tender throat. Torrent was getting a silent message across to Jake. 

"I am a genetic genius, Jake. You can't deny that, either. I can cure your daughter. Of course, such a procedure would take time and cannot be done without some sort of tender exchange…but I'm sure we can work out something. Can't we, Jacob?" 

Jake fell to his knees again, tears dripping silently. 

"You'll like it here in Eden, Jake. And your daughter will too. I'm sure you'll grow to admire our cause. You're a human after all. This planet belongs to your kind." 

When Celeste's eyes flew open, she thought she felt Torrent's venomous hiss drip into her ear. She'd gotten her first glimpse of Eden…and she didn't particularly care for it. 

But she knew she'd be going back. 


	6. Fantastic Mr Fox

**Chapter 6: Fantastic Mr. Fox**

The day that Cain made his arrangements to visit Neo Disneyland was an uneasy one in MHHQ. It was no secret that the Hunters loved to torment their benefactor -- nary a day went by where Cain didn't find his toilet seat covered in Saran Wrap, a nest of old-world vipers slithering in his bed, or the top of his salt-shaker loose -- but in truth, they all loved the old man and trusted his leadership. It was for that reason that the word "Monroe" bred an ill feeling in the pit of everyone's tummy. 

What would Monroe be like? If he was everything his papa cursed him as, MHHQ wasn't going to see any jolly times in the near future. The worry over Cain's son diffused through the Hunters like poison gas, sapping their zest and quenching their thirst for adventure and life with bitter water. It affected everyone. Cass' drinks were little better than horse pee (to quote Zero, using less polite words), and even Salamandastron's Illusion, which was never anything short of immaculate, was looking rather shabby. Cass' brilliant badger stripes were dull with worry over his best customer. 

The Hunters did poorly in their training, not that they were stellar five star warriors to begin with. But even Celeste was fumbling her techniques much more than usual, and her dreams, which were always disturbing , got louder and more intense. Sleep became less of an option in her life. 

"Oh Lord above, help my unlucky blood," she murmured one day, completely worn. 

"You say something, Celeste?" Zero looked up from the papers he was sorting. 

"Coffee is God." Celeste got up from the cafeteria table to get a cup of cheer. 

"Oh. Yes. Yes it is." Zero went back to work. 

Indeed, no one was up to par in the entire building. Even X and Zero were on edge enough to rediscover an old hobby they'd long forgotten: Senseless bickering. 

Zero was sorting a field of papers on the table before him, his brow furrowed. Concentration was not his forte, he preferred to slice through the knot. It was his responsibility to keep the Hunters' training scores organized, and, of course, he never did, as was evident by the shaggy mess of personal documents he was trying to swim through. But over the past year or so, Cain got too old and slow to bother with the records, which suited Zero just fine. 

Alas, that was all due to change. There was little doubt in Zero's mind that Monroe would want to see the Hunters' records when he arrived, and the Hunter doubted that Cain's boy would appreciate thumbing through a notebook that looked like the Augean Stable. 

Zero's train of thought was constantly derailed by the sound of X seated across the table from him, chewing loudly on a handful of potato chips and staring vacantly at a grease spot on the cafeteria wall opposite from him. 

Zero's eyes flicked up. "Stop that." 

"I'm sorry. Do you want some?" 

"Leave me alone." 

"Wow, you get testy when you have to use your brain for something other than pumping synthetic testosterone into your miserable blood." 

"Ho ho ho. I'll just bet you're cooking YOUR noodle by staring like a mongoloid at the wall." 

"Reflection clears the mind--" 

"'Reflection clears the mind," Zero mimicked X's voice with emphasis on its less-than-masculine tone. "Know what, X? I spent twenty bucks of my own money getting these papers bound into a new book. The old binding was literally rat-chewed. These records are YOUR responsibility too. You're a unit leader, are you not? And I didn't see a cent from you!" 

"Oh, HERE!" X waspishly threw a crumpled five dollar bill at Zero. 

Zero threw the greasy wad of paper back at X with venom. "Don't throw money at me like I'm some kind of cheap whore!" 

This bantered back and forth until a human Hunter sitting at the table next to the duo snarled a warning that they'd best shut up if they knew what was good for them. Zero flared up in his seat, but X pulled at his hair. 

"No-no Zero, mustn't hit the nice human. Their bones tend to be more brittle this time of the year." 

Zero surprised everyone by cooling down and slumping in his chair. "Ah, I guess you're right," he said. "I'm just nervous about this Monroe bloke. Three more days and he's upon us. Like a bloody...hurricane or something. And I have this godawful feeling in my gut that bad times are upon us." 

X shrugged. "And we're not even at war. Though I have a feeling that, if we were, you'd be a lot happier." 

Celeste was sleepy, and that was an understatement. She was beat-up sat-on kicked-in-the-side exhausted. She couldn't see straight. 

The Huntress' sleep, ironically, offered her no rest. Every night she was presented with images of Eden and her little self within it. Every night, something new was revealed. Every night, the overall picture of Eden became clearer. 

_So, I used to live there when I was a little girl._

Was it the truth? Oh yes. And she knew, by some way or another, her sorry behind would end up there again in the near future for whatever reason. 

Celeste recalled something Torrent had said to her father in one of her dreams: _You owe us your daughter, Jake._

Ha, there was the reason right there. Torrent saved her life as a little girl by request of her father...but there had been a price. Torrent owned her. Or so he figured. And Mechadrakes, like any dragon, didn't readily give up their possessions. 

_So,_ Celeste thought, _I'll go into Eden when the time comes. I have before. But I got out. I don't know how I did it the first time, but I can do it again. I'll do whatever it takes to make my mind my own..._

Smack. 

A hunk of metal flew across the gym and gave Celeste a good whack upside the head, furrowing an ugly trench across her fertile thoughts and bringing her back to the plane of the living. She rubbed the rising bump and looked beside her where, not too far off, Seven the panther was perched on the broad shoulders of a training drone, and hacking up the unfortunate thing bit by bit with his clumsy but effective power-axe. 

"Seven!" Celeste shouted above the screams of the tortured drone. "Seven! Stop! He's already dead!" 

Seven complied with a vampire's grin, but only after he leapt off the drone's shoulders, kicked it over, sliced it open from seam to chops, and pulled out its mechanical innards, revelling in the violent shower of fluids that sprayed him. 

_Cats. They're never satisfied to just KILL something._

"Good job, Seven," said Jody who, of course, was not far away from Celeste. The boy was indeed a gaunt, clever hawk, and seemed unfazed by the severe beating he'd taken by Zero only a couple of weeks ago. Jody was tough, Celeste gave him that. The scars he'd acquired during that battle were probably just another few streets on his bodily road map. 

And besides, he'd certainly cut Zero up some, too. With that chainsickle of his, curled faithfully, as always, by his side. 

Celeste didn't have any sort of praise for Seven, however. The voices in the training gym became a muddled soup that slowly filled Celeste's ears and irritated her tired, dull senses....but above it all, somewhere in a country far off to her left, Celeste could hear Seven saying that old-fashioned weapons were the only way to go, and Commander Zero could shove his lightsabre up his arse. 

A scaly, clawed hand perfumed with the strong scent of the sewers fell on Celeste's shoulder. "Time to go home, daughter of Jake." 

Celeste's instincts drew fuel from some hidden resource as she flew around and slashed behind her in one motion. But instead of Torrent, it was one of her Hunters, a human named Smith, who staggered backwards and sat down hard with a bloody, burned gash that was fairly shallow, but dangerous nonetheless. 

"I...just wanted to see if you were...all right," Smith panted, grimacing with each word. "...You were...swooning...uh...I think...I ought to...have this...looked after...eh?" 

Several Hunters ran to aid Smith. Seven smacked the human upside the head with a paw. "Idiot! You don't sneak up behind a Hunter like that! You deserve what you got." 

Celeste blinked in disbelief. Her mind cruelly replayed a similar incident years ago, when she'd taken the life of a grand Mechadrake named Skysheen, and a slightly less regal reploid named Vile had been born in his place... 

"He deserved that," Jody grunted beside her. "Stupid moron sneaks up behind you--what did he expect? Don't worry miss, we saw everything. It wasn't your fault. Say...are you all right?" 

Celeste rocked back and forth on her heels. "That was fun, but I think I'll take a nap now," she declared in a slurred voice before pitching forward on her face. 

Celeste lay in the room, the walls were closing in on her, pulsing with her breathing, she was burning up...where was her daddy? She cried out for him with the voice of a sick wolf pup, but he didn't come. It wasn't his warm arms that enveloped her. It wasn't his voice that soothed her... 

"Drink this, my love. You'll feel better soon." 

The arms were scaly. The voice was raspy, but had some strange essence of love rooted deep within. And there was that smell of the sewers. But this time, it was comforting. She drank from the cup the clawed hand held for her and snuggled her heated body against the cold chestplate of the reploid who held her, drawing the cool like nectar. 

"Indeed, you DO belong to me. Sleep well, my dear..." 

When Celeste awoke to the sound of a fox's voice rasping out commands, she knew she was in the Medical Unit. With Genesis. Again. 

"JOHNSON! JACKAL! Stop rolling those beds around and lie down before I pump you full of horse tranquilizers! This is NOT Nascar! Pip! PIP! What the hell kind of painkillers did you give those two!? Christ up a tree." 

Celeste stroked the rough sheets under her fingertips and listened to the water-torture rhythm of her heart on the monitor behind her. It was all she had strength to do. 

Genesis, accustomed to the constant din of the Medical Unit, was able to hear her minute movements. "Oh, it's you," the visored fox said, coming over to take her pulse. "I need words with you. You did a number on that idiot Smith, eh? It's a good thing the jerk never grew up on a farm. He'd probably stand behind all the horses and pull their tails, then wonder why his Captain Winky disappeared back into his lower abdomen. Anyway...how are we feeling?" 

"Hrrrrrrrm...." 

"Yeah, I know the feeling. But listen, miss. I'm not beating around the bush. We've got a problem here." 

Celeste wearily turned her head. She knew what was coming, and she didn't want Genesis to look her in the eye. 

Genesis, however, reached out and turned her head. "No, look at me. This isn't the first time you've fallen down on the spot. You're narcoleptic." 

Yes, Celeste had seen that one coming. And she was too tired to voice a protest. Besides that, there was no protesting the obvious truth. 

"And besides that," Genesis continued, "you're just...a funny human being. I've been around long enough to know humans very well. You're keeping something from me, from everyone, some secret that's ultimately affecting your performance. And, even worse, your health. And you refuse to talk about it. I don't suppose your stance has changed on THAT matter?" 

Genesis burned the tender spot in Celeste's car-wreck of a mind, and tears welled up in her eyes despite herself. She turned her head away again. 

Genesis knew by Celeste's reaction that he'd found her box of secrets, the box every human held in his or her heart. He just had to pry a bit more to make the locks splinter. "You've been a tough one all your life, miss," he said gently. "but when it all comes down to it, you're still young. Still a little girl, in many ways. I'm always here to talk to. You know that. Right?" 

Celeste rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her blue gown. "Yeah..." 

"Good. I hate to see you cry. Rest for now and consider what I've said." Genesis arched his back. " 'cause I haven't gotten to the bad news yet. I've covered you before when you displayed narcoleptic behaviour...lied on your medical records and such. That goes against everything I stand for, and I'd never do it for anyone but you. But my dear, I can't keep it up. I'm going to have to report you this time around." 

Celeste's eyes grew wide. "You can't!" she cried. "If Cain reads my medical records and sees THAT, he'll demote me. Maybe even kick me out for good." 

"I imagine so. But what if you got into a Hunting accident because of it? I'd never forgive myself, and my ass would be fried, besides. But...I'll tell you what. We'll work on a 'Don't ask, don't tell' basis, all right? Unless Cain bothers to LOOK at your record...which is unlikely...I won't tell him. Deal?" 

That was the best Celeste was going to do. She accepted. 

"In return...you're going to talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I'll grant you immunity. Nothing you say to me will ever leave this room, for all the glory of the patients within. All right? You HAVE to talk to someone. It may as well be a stupid old bastard like me." 

"...all right. I'll do it." Celeste was miserable and she still refused to look at Genesis. 

The fox looked down at her in pity before he removed the scarf around his neck and tucked it into bed beside the stricken human like a teddy bear. 

"It always makes me feel better when I'm down," he chuckled. "Now rest up...it won't do for Cain Jr. to see you lying here upon his arrival..." 


	7. Strange Days

**Chapter 7: Strange Days**

It took Zero exactly five seconds to decide that he didn't like Monroe. 

During his drunker sessions of rambling, Cain often substituted his ex-wife's name (Anita) for something that had a few more descriptive syllables (usually, "The Thing from the Pit of It"). 

And now, as the Crimson Hunter got his first glance at the product of a fleeting period of friendliness between Cain and Anita on some dark night about thirty-three years ago... 

"The Offspring of the Thing from the Pit of It," Zero murmured too loudly. 

Beside Zero, X dug his elbow into his friend's ribs. "Sh." 

If Monroe were a dog, Zero decided silently, he'd be a toy poodle. It matched him. The quick step, the well-groomed coat, the haughty eyes. Yes, a poodle, or some other nervous little rat-dog who had soft-minded fops bending over at every hour of every day to feed him, bathe him, tug at his fur-- 

"Zero! Pay attention!" X hissed. 

The poodle trotted over to the Hunter to have his belly rubbed, and Zero got his first good look at Monroe Cain. 

He was a tall boy, good looking at the very least. He had a gold pond of curly hair resting on an egg-shaped head. Zero got the impression that Monroe's follicles didn't ever dare to step out of line. A tight black shirt showed off what little sinew was on his lanky frame, mismatched terribly by a sloppy pair of too-big jeans. His small muddy eyes shot daggers at Zero's own baby blues, seeking confrontation and a reason to start up with the head of the Hunters. 

Zero just blinked lazily. He wasn't in the mood to play territorial domination games with any human males today. 

Discouraged, Monroe looked beyond the Crimson Wonder and to the troops lined up behind him, including his own Special Unit 0, X and the 17th Regal Dragons, and Celeste and Paul with the Night Vipers. 

"My name is Monroe Cain," Monroe said at last in a voice that resembled a puppy's yip. "I will be in charge while my father is gone. I've come to understand that some of you, for whatever reason, are actually fond of the fool and his beer-soaked philosophies. Understand, however, that he has now left these grounds, and his word is null and void. Changes will be made, things will happen. Some of you will not like the changes," Monroe revealed a rag and blew his nose in Zero's general direction, "but as they say in the old country, tough titmice. Dismissed for now." 

A great sigh rose up from the lines of Hunters. 

"Hoboy," X exhaled. 

"Welcome to the Jungle," Zero murmured to no one in particular. He watched as Seven the panther detached himself from the depressed herd of Hunters that sludged their way back into MHHQ. The cat bounded up beside Monroe and engaged in a lively conversation as the two walked away. 

"Well, the Offspring of the Thing from the Pit of It already has a pet cat," Zero sneered. "Does the furball cook for Cain's wastrel? Maybe he'll clean Monroe's lonely bachelor suite and rearrange the milk carton collection that's probably scattered all over the floor? I'll bet Bucky the Cat there will make himself very useful to Monroe, doing every task short of wiping his--" 

_"Zero!"_

  
  


Deep in his tomb of sewers, Torrent Leviathan began to think. A nearby sewer rat promptly died of a massive brain haemorrhage. 

He sliced through the warm waters, hunting for one of the goggle-eyed scummy-scaled fishies that shared his veins, but his heart wasn't in the search. He had too much on his mind. 

Torrie was growing restless, hiding for so long in the sewers. Parasitic viruses like himself didn't bode well in peace time. Torrent was the very model of evil. He didn't power, and he could've given a good long fart about money. Not anymore. What he wanted was chaos, mischief, to morally bring others down to his lowly rat-runs. 

And Torrent was disturbingly patient. A spider could sit for days on a web, feeding on faith that its meal would come if it just waited. Torrent could do the same, twisting in his filthy water like an adder on the hunt. 

A little ferret of a chaotic idea burrowed into Torrent's brain. 

_Aha..._

Asmodeus 12, the Mavericks, the Maverick Hunters...he was tired of them all. He wanted to see them spiral like shot birds. Simply for the hell of it. 

The ferret was growing larger, feeding. Torrent leaped out of the water and made his way back to his nest. 

  
  


"Well, I finally know what to do with you." 

Torrent Leviathan leaned his scaly back against the slimy brickwork and regarded his guest with his eyes narrowed. She'd come around from her deep spell of unconsciousness, but that was probably going to be the height of her future achievements. 

"You're a timid little bunny, aren't you?" 

Indeed. The girl's skin, Torrent judged, might have been a beautiful brown at some point before her attack, rich and smooth as soil. But he had no trace of that noble pelt now, she had the sickly blue-white features of a drowned man. Innumerable rusty ruts slashed her face and arms, and they didn't appear to be healing cleanly. She was backed into the corner furthest from Torrent, obviously scared to death of the Mechadrake. 

"No, I didn't expect you to wake up with a tremendous love for Mechadrakes," Torrent said mildly. "Can you tell me your name, my dear?" 

The woman's mouth filled with words that she couldn't spit out; as a result, she merely choked. 

"Try it again," Torrent said with all the patience of a loving parent. 

"A..Ange..." the woman managed this time. 

"What a lovely name," the dragon said, casually blowing a smoke ring into the wet air. "I won't torment you with any more questions for now, Ange." Torrent stood up. "You have severe blood poisoning from all those cuts, and you're quite helpless. You're on the verge of dying, if I'm to be totally honest with you. So get lots of rest! You'll need it if I'm going to save you, twist you, and use you as a catalyst to the bloodiest battle this earth has endured since the Maverick Wars. This life demands some action, and you know what they say about idle hands, don't you? Wait...better not answer that." 

  
  


It became apparent that fate wasn't going to allow Zero the convenience of time to build up a resistance to Monroe. Indeed, not even twenty-four hours after the boy arrived, Zero found himself the subject of a "visit." 

Zero, oblivious to the pleasant bath of sun and spring wind of the outdoors, had a clumsy pack of human rookies under his care, and the Hunter's mood was foul. He shouted out curses at the rookies as they attempted to run an obstacle course. They stumbled like newborn calves, falling, bleeding, and, more than once, coming uncomfortably close to cracking their heads open like a fat boy on a deserted island. Zero knew from experience that Genesis got testy when he had to stuff brains back into fractured skulls. 

Sometime during the exercise, Monroe trip-trapped next to Zero to watch the festivities. Zero's curses unconsciously grew louder and more severe. The Hunter was typically tough on rookies. Especially humans. Aside from a select circle of friends, which included Celeste, the reploid never had any great love for the species and their wild tendencies, and the faster he broke them, the faster he could mould them into something a bit less repulsive. 

Scanning the heaving, sweat-soaked human cattle, Zero spied a particularly fat boy struggling to climb over a plank wall, his feet skating on the smooth surface like a frog trying to escape from a jar. The Hunter chose his victim. 

"Is the cow having trouble jumping over the moon? How 'bout another donut, fatso?" 

The young man had the shape and complexion of a sugar-coated Timbit, with useless toothpick arms and legs. Greasy hair was plastered over his piggy eyes, which gleamed with frustrated tears. 

"C'mon Hamilton, you're jamming up the works of the obstacle course! Give it some effort, you sloth. You pathetic waste of life. You thing from the dark corner of a bog." 

Zero was surprised when the tears in the Timbit's eyes were dried up by determined fury. With one last heave, he mounted the wall...and sat helplessly while the whole thing toppled over like a tipped cow. 

The rookies scattered like mice. Monroe and Zero clapped their hands over their ears for the pathetic scream of the rider on the dying horse. When the dust cleared, the fat boy lay flat on his back, stunned, the wall on top of him. The rookies cautiously recollected themselves and tiptoed back to the scene. 

Monroe said nothing; he merely raised one immaculate eyebrow. A great curtain of exhaustion dropped over Zero; he'd had enough. 

"All right, that's all I can digest. Now get out of here! All of you! Go back to your barracks, and curse your mothers for ever bringing such ugly slugs as yourselves into this world!" 

The rookies dispersed, leaving Timbit where he lay. 

"Zero," Monroe clacked at last. "May I have a word with you." 

Zero set his jaw. "Oh, sure." 

"Let's go for a walk." 

Hunter and Founder's Son went strolling through the lawn, back to MHHQ, metal boots and shiny loafers crunching pleasantly under the freshly cut grass. 

"You command your own unit, am I correct?" Monroe said. 

"Yes, sir. Special Unit #0. I also break in the rookies, though, before they get into the Night Vipers. It's fun to watch them cry." 

"Mmm hmm. Does your unit have a specific name?" 

"Not really. Though, during the first Maverick War, we had a different Elite Unit called the Spartans." Zero cleared his throat. "Sigma led that." 

"I see." Monroe fell silent and only the swish of his steps through the grass were audible. "Well, why doesn't your unit have a name, aside from 0? Every unit has a number, sure, but every unit also needs a name. And by the way, naming your unit '0' after yourself was pretty damn tacky." 

"Cain chose the name," Zero said flatly. 

Monroe didn't appear to hear. "A name should strike fear into an enemy, and '0' doesn't do it. The enemy should hear the name and say, 'Oh no, we're screwed now, unit Something-Something been dispatched!'" 

"But--" 

"Do you have any idea for a name, Zero?" 

Zero was suddenly overwhelmed with a stinging desire to seize the spawn of Cain and break his scrawny neck over his knee. He resisted, for the moment. "Forrest in the Night Vipers once suggested 'Special Unit 0 Pissing Gorillas,'" he said instead. 

"Uh, no." 

"Roadkill in the Medical Unit had an idea a while back: 'Special Unit 0 Squished Foxes.' Of course, he was working under Genesis at the time, and they really didn't get along--" 

"No!" 

"X was always partial to 'Special Unit 0 Toronto Maple Leafs--'" 

"Zero!" 

"What?" 

Monroe sighed. "I'm going to give you some quiet time," he said. "I want you to think of something more worthwhile than 'Special Unit 0.' I know my father likes that name, but I'm not my father, and you can be assured that I wake up every morning and thank God for that small favour. Dismissed." 

Zero watched Monroe saunter away from him, and he wondered how long he could possibly behave himself around this freak of nature. 

_"Quiet Time." God on His throne. What an era we're entering. I wonder, if Monroe is ever charged by a rabid Maverick, will he flick the lights on and off, and threaten him with a Time Out?_

Under normal circumstances, Monroe would've simply irritated Zero. However, some undercurrent in the boy's blood made him very wary--maybe even frightened. Monroe put on a show of being so passive about violence that it made X look like a chainsaw killer. But there was something pungent under Monroe's prim exterior, and what was more, the Hunter knew that Cain's boy didn't much like him. 

But Zero was determined to behave himself, for Cain's sake. Putting the plesantries of the visit behind him, Zero headed to _Salamandastron's Illusion_ to make exceptional use of his "Quiet Time." 

  
  


A sneeze rang across the Centre Court of the Great Tree. 

"Someone's talking about me," Asmodeus 12 snuffled to Atticus 15. The bronze behemoth merely grunted in reply and rattled his chain against the post he was shackled to. 

"Yes yes, I don't like you much either, you great big lummox. And I don't like the fact that Jody hasn't delivered Celeste yet. Well, time ripens the product, I suppose. And your boy is a smart one. He'll succeed." 

Asmodeus had a fine view of the Court from his perch, and his deceptively cloudy eyes picked out Caillou from the stirring nest below. The boy was limping along to his business, jostled by the other Warriors of Eden who travelled in pairs of two or more. 

"Odd boy, that Caillou, wouldn't you say? I don't expect he's very happy under that skin of his. He probably misses his mother, that trollop. What was her name, again...?" 

Atticus bit at his chains, his tusked jaw grinding uselessly against the twice forged metal. 

"Ange, that was it. Yes, she was good, but not good enough to be allowed to break rules. Huh. Who did she think she was fooling? I saw the way she looked at that lover of hers, they were the same...lonely, I guess. But that's no excuse. Then she gives birth to that thing down there...it doesn't take a Bart Simpson to put two and two together, Atticus!" 

Atticus thrashed his thunderbolt of a tail. 

"But I might use him for our battle, when the time comes," Asmodeus yawned. "It would be a shame to throw away anyone of the McTreggor bloodline..." 

  
  


The air was cool, but damp, and Overdrive Ostrich perspired, but more out of fear of being caught than because of the grim atmosphere. 

_Oh please, oh please..._

He traced one feathery finger over the thick dust that carpeted the room he was supposed to have been clearing out. The Ostrich had one true love...biological formulas. And the floor of the room was decorated with the mathematic scrawls, proof of his indulgence in the forbidden lust. Years ago, when the Mavericks caught Zero and turned him Maverick, it was Overdrive who created the mutated virus that turned the Hunter bad...but then the faulty virus turned on itself for some reason, and since then, Overdrive was not to touch formulas as a punishment, on penalty of having his neck wrapped around his bottom. 

But a bird has to have desires... 

"OVERDRIVE!" 

Overdrive squawked at Phoenix's boom, his finger cutting a swath in his hard work. 

The dampness in the air melted in Phoenix's blazing aura as the myth seized the biologist's spindly neck and gave him a good shake. "I should have known I'd find you in here, biting the forbidden fruit. What have I told you? No mathematical formulas, no biological experiments...you're supposed to be GROUNDED, my dear!" 

Overdrive stuttered miserably. "But Miss Phoenix...formulas are the only things I know how to do well. I'm not a fighter like you, or Violen, or Neon, or--" 

"If you could actually do formulas WELL, Overdrive, we wouldn't be skulking around in this pisser. Zero would still be with us, and we'd be going places! Places worth being in! Like...oh, I don't know...maybe our headquarters would be in a nice...MOVIE THEATRE or something!" 

Overdrive snuffled. "No ma'am, I don't deny that." 

"I didn't think you would. And you're not to dabble in any sort of science until I've rolled over and died. And let me remind you of something. I'm a phoenix. We don't exactly drop out of the sky stone dead too often. So turn your brain off and take the key out of the ignition. You'll feel better that way." 

Overdrive drooped. "Yes, miss." 

"Good boy. Now get back to cleaning up this room." 

Phoenix walked out of the room, her talons purposely stomping over Overdrive's scrawls, and her hellfire wings trailing streamers over whatever remained. Overdrive sprawled out over his ruined work and sighed. He was a bad little Ostrich. He knew everything that Phoenix said was true. Zero had been his responsibility, and he'd blown it. And yet... 

"I'd go crazy without me biology." 

Overdrive's brain was too powerful to simply park in the garage. He needed something that would get Phoenix to trust him again. 

He needed a project... 


	8. Hawkmoon

Torrent Leviathan liked wolves. There was a lot of respect to be had for such powerful, social animals. The lupine warriors were adept hunters, endowed with glorious speed and poetic motions. And although it took a pack of wolves to bring down a strong enemy, Torrent was sure that it would only take one wolf to make the Maverick Hunter organization keel over on its ancient flank, its lifeforce spilling on the dust like a great beast with a bit jugular. 

"Indeed, indeed, indeed," Torrent thrummed cheerfully as he pumped a syringe with a murky pink liquid. He stole a glance at Ange, who was swathed in dirty cotton blankets in a far corner, semi conscious and shivering. Her body was assaulted with numerous infections, but she was incredibly tough; she seemed to be fighting them off successfully. 

"Excellent," Torrent said as he raised the syringe to the thick green light that filtered into the sewer, observing the pink liquid's level. He slunk over to Ange's corner. "Just a little pinprick...there'll be no more...but you may feel a little sick." 

  
  
  
  


"Cass...Cass....eeeeeasy big fellah. There's a good badger. Back away from Monroe now." 

Zero's pleas were eaten by the general din that drowned the bar. Cass, the giant bartender of _Salamandastron's Illusion_ had the son of Cain treed on the giant dragon's head that snarled high over the bar counter. The speed at which Monroe had squirreled up onto his hiding spot to escape the reploid badger's wrath would forever remain a legend among the Hunters. 

Cass looked truly frightening, his teeth bared and dripping, his fur fluffed, his eyes outfitted with a bloodlike sheen. His wrath was directed at the Billy Goat Gruff on the dragon's head above him. Monroe was pale and trembling like a little cat in a tree. 

"Damn you humans!" Cass roared. "You all think you're so hot just because you can climb away from danger, eh? Just like your long-tailed wang-thumping ancestors used to do, those glorified lice-taxis. Not much has changed with you lot, I can tell. Come down here and fight like a real gorilla!" 

Zero had no idea what Cass was going on about. Despite the badger's temporary insanity, he didn't appear to be Maverick. He seemed to be angry at Monroe alone, and wasn't targeting any of the surrounding humans like a real Maverick would have. Far above, Monroe gave a terrified squeak. Zero almost felt sorry for the human; his terror was not misplaced. If Cass so chose, one swipe of his great paw would send Monroe's head flying off his shoulders like a bloody bowling ball. 

Seven came flying into the room. The panther's black fur was sleek with authority. "All right people, nothing to see here, no badger is threatening to kill Monroe, everyone just move along now--Awk!" 

Zero stepped on the cat's tail as he strode by, pinning him in mid-step. Seven's poweraxe fumbled and spilled out of his paws. 

"Good grip on your weapon, cat." Zero said, kicking the axe across the room as an underline. "Those paws of yours...how many times have I told you that they're no good for...oh, no matter. What the hell is going on with Cass and Monroe?" 

Seven's annoyance was amplified by the fact that no one was respecting his authority. The barflies were all too busy enjoying the sideshow to bother listening to him. "Monroe gave Cass a simple command," he sniffed. "But the big lummox found it unreasonable--" 

"What _kind_ of command?" Zero didn't like how this was blossoming. 

"Mr. Cain decreed that _Salamandastron's Illusion_ would become _Persephone's Spring,_ an establishment that would replace all hard liquor with a healthy array of juices--" 

"Oh dear gentle Jesus." 

Zero unpinned Seven and dived into the crowd, tearing away at handfuls of spectators until he was next to Cass' ear. 

"Cass! Cass!" he shouted again. "Calm down! I'll talk to Monroe!" 

Cass was finally cool enough to hear a voice besides the future screams of deprived drinkers in his own head. He turned and faced Zero. 

"Sure, he can turn this place into a juice bar. When I'm dead and buried. _Then_ he can turn this place into a juice bar." 

"I have the Hunters' health in my best interests," Monroe dared to say from his perch. An empty beer mug subsequently shattered on the wall just inches from his head, courtesy of a brawny badger arm. 

It was time to put an end to this. Zero drew himself up to his full height. "That's enough. Everyone, back to your posts. I highly doubt that every single one of you is on break." 

Sure enough, the crowd dispersed, having witnessed their fun event for the day. Seven frizzled slightly when he noticed how cleanly everyone obeyed the head of the Hunters. O, sweet respect! Thine creed is hard to hold. The panther-cat slunk into a dark corner. 

With the bar cleared out and Zero barring the way to Cass, Monroe dared to climb down to earth. The giant behind Zero growled deep in his throat. Protected by a wall of crimson, a haughty air gathered around the boy again, and he soaked it up like a sponge. 

"We will discuss this further at a later date, Ass--" 

_"CASS!"_

"Yes, of course. Cass. Now if you'll excuse me..." Monroe took his exit. Seven tagged him like a shadow. 

The mammoth badger cracked his knuckles wetly and growled obscenities about Cain's offspring--obscenities that would have surely earned him Reprogramming on Suspect of Maverick Intentions under normal conditions. But these days of late spring didn't bring anything normal about them. The weather was too hot and still, bad moons and frequent storms made the atmosphere temperamental, often driving humans to fight each other, and something in the dark was poised to strike...something that couldn't be seen or felt or discussed, making everyone far more jittery than any war could ever have. 

  
  
  
  


Although something told Zero he wasn't the primary catalyst, Cain's boy and his stupid antics were undeniably a factor in the bad air of MHHQ. 

Zero was frustrated. When Monroe did something retarded, everyone came crying to him. But what could he do? Monroe was now the head of Maverick Hunter HQ and Cain Labs. Zero was the leader of the Maverick Hunters--no less, he was the Commander of the newly-baptized Special Unit 0 Black Unicorns. Maverick Hunting was his life, and thus, Monroe was his god. And he owed it to Cain Sr. to be on his best behaviour. 

Zero toyed with a spoon on the greasy Cafeteria table. The Cafeteria, which was now serving a "delicious selection of healthy vegetarian dishes," was almost empty. Zero missed steak. There was nothing like tearing your teeth into a hunk of dead cow, chewing on the grilled, dripping fat while warm blood and juices ran down your throat in a salty torrent. Oh well. At least carrots were satisfyingly crunchy. But they didn't go moo. 

Forrest sat across from Zero, enjoying a Coke. The weather, which was still unusually hot, combined with the crappy new menu to kill most of the Hunters' appetites. All anyone wanted to do was drink. 

Forrest's normally blank eyes looked past Zero for a second, widened, and filled with disbelief. The next moment, he sprayed a shower of pop on the warrior. 

Zero didn't look up from his spoon. "Thanks for sharing." 

"Dr...dra..._Mechadrake!"_

This time, Zero's head shot up. He turned around. Sure enough... 

The Mechadrake was not of any subspecies that Zero was familiar with. Her frame was a glorious molten silver, slim and light, supported by two legs that were as long and delicate as a stag's. But Zero was certain that those legs, which looked fragile enough to break with two fingers, packed a lot of power. The drake was undeniably female, as Zero could tell by her slender snout and cascading white mane. A thin band of cloth circled her forehead, stuck with a single feather of an unidentifiable bird species. Her eyes were blue and gentle. 

The Mechadrake seemed to be new to the establishment. Zero observed the way she snuffed at objects and ran her long fingers over them, rather than peering. Most Mechadrakes had a lizard-stare that would melt wood. This one didn't. Her optics were as cool as marble. 

"Look at those wings," X murmured from beside Zero. 

Indeed. Mechadrakes, a strong, distinct species of cybernetic/reploid dragon often had a broad pair of leathery wings that made them lethal in mid-air combat. This silver, on the other hand, had wings that sacrificed width for length. Zero had little doubt they could cut through the air like nothing. 

"Built for speed," Zero murmured back. "Remember Red Draco?" 

"God, who could forget?" 

"Really. She had wings that were broad...like sails. She was a red Mechadrake, and they're built for strong flight. This girl here, though...she probably can't fly very long, but she could take off like a jet. Now, the question is...what's a Mechadrake _doing_ here?" 

Zero had every right to be concerned. Mechadrakes had few scruples. Their loyalties were very shady. One second they'd fight alongside you, and the next, their claws would be in your back. During the first Maverick War, Zero became good friends with a red Mechadrake, Red Draco, who lead the 17th Regal Dragons. Red decided it would fit her schedule to go wild, kill her Unit, and join Sigma. But in the end, she helped to end Sigma's reign. So it was hard to say where Mechadrakes stood in the war of Humans vs. Reploids, but it was safe to say that they weren't necessarily welcomed in MHHQ. But of course... 

"Yeah right, who's gonna tell her to leave?" X grunted. 

"Touche. I've never seen a Mechadrake like that before." 

"It's a silver," X said. "I've never seen one, but I've heard of them. They're diplomats, not fighters." 

"Oh yes," Zero said. "Look at that mother of a katana strapped to her back. She must use that to dole out lollipops to children." he propped his chin on his fist for a second. "I'm going to talk to her, see what she wants." 

"Don't die." 

Zero approached the lanky 'drake, who was chewing tentatively on a lunch tray. Long before Zero was anywhere near her, she turned around and smiled at him with dozens of needle-sharps. 

Zero dealt with Mechadrakes enough to know that, good or evil, it was wise to deal with them in a formal and respectful manner. 

"Good afternoon, milady." 

The Mechadrake surprised Zero with a sort of graceful variety of dragon-curtsy, which involved a small leap and a deep bend on those spindly legs. "Good afternoon, Hunter Zero." Her voice was velvety, as opposed to Red's sandpaper-oesophagus rasp. 

Uncomfortable silence. 

"May I ask you your name," Zero said at last, "And how you knew mine?" 

"You may call me Hawkmoon," she said. She walked to where X and Forrest were sitting, her step remarkably light and her head bobbing slightly, like a bird, with each movement. She gave the two Hunters a sweeping bow. "Gentlemen!" 

X blinked. "Uh, hi." 

Forrest gawked. 

"As for how I knew you," Hawkmoon continued, "I am a personal friend of Monroe Cain. He asked me to take up residence in Maverick Hunter HQ. He told me all about you." 

Now Zero really WAS worried about Monroe's sanity. 

"I am sure we'll have lovely times under this roof," Hawkmoon said in a neutral tone. "I look forward to working with you all, but if you'll excuse me..." the Mechadrake bobbed out of the cafeteria swiftly, her petit paws barely touching the ground. 

"Monroe is hosting sleepovers for Mechadrakes now," Zero said flatly. "That's just super." 

"She had a funny air about her," X mused. 

"She was blind." 

X started. "What?" 

"Didn't you see her eyes? Look at the way she explores things with her hands. Look at her ears, they're completely erect. Look at the way she tilts her head from side to side to pick up sound. Her eyesight is either gone, or else it just really sucks." 

X was still puttering. "A _blind_ reploid?" 

"No, it's not right," Zero agreed. "A human might be born blind, or an animal. But not a reploid. No engineer would build a blind reploid. Hawkmoon is a funny old thing, even if she IS friendly and more or less sane. But I don't like _any_ variety of Mechadrake sharing my air space, thank you." 

"But if Hawkmoon is a friend of Monroe's, she's here to stay." 

Zero snorted. "Mechadrakes aren't anyone's 'friends'. My dear X, this place is going to town on the Spanish Train." 

"I don't see how things could get worse," X agreed.   
  
  
  


"Zero..." 

Zero pretended he didn't hear Monroe pelting down the hallway behind him. 

"Zero!" 

It was fun to pretend. Big Bird said so. 

"ZERO!" 

Okay, he couldn't ignore that. The Hunter turned around as Monroe caught up to him. The boy was panting a bit (so much for health food). But what interested Zero the most was the broad reploid that tailed Monroe. The reploid appeared to be a medic of some kind, judging by his attire. He wore an odd armoured smock, white, with pale green trimming. His eyes had a hungry-eagle look to them and his square jaw was set in a brown bit. His mouth was static. Zero could tell that the corners never ever turned up towards the sun on any occasion. He was not a happy looking fellow, but neither did he appear to be nasty or cold. He was just a businessman. 

"Did you need something, sir," Zero said slowly. 

"Yes. I'd like you to meet the newest Service recruit on our team. Lifesaver." Monroe motioned towards the bricklike medic. 

"How do you do," Zero said with sincere respect. Lifesaver nodded back in a silent but friendly manner. 

"Lifesaver is an expert on reploid systems," Monroe explained. "He's going to oversee reploid repairs and maintenance, including the rest of the reconstruction of Iris. Aside from that, he'll be overseeing activities in the human ward--" 

"Wait, wait," Zero shot. "Genesis runs the human Medical Unit." 

Monroe stared blanky. "Lifesaver will be overseeing activities in the human ward." 

Zero returned the vacant stare. "Genesis runs the human Medical Unit," he repeated, slower this time. 

"Lifesaver will be overseeing--" 

_"Monroe!"_ Zero finally exploded. "What's _with_ you? Do you have a death wish? First you screw with Cass' bar. Then you invite blind Mechadrakes to run around like little pixies, with no regard for what happened during the first Maverick War. Now you want to tango with Genesis? That fox won't tolerate you, Monroe. Maybe I do, but HE won't. He's and old fellow. Old and very set in his ways. Some days I get the feeling he's older than any of us could guess. And he takes care of the Medical Unit, and he deserves it. The humans trust him. God knows that's a rare thing between humans and reploids these days." 

Monroe's mouth was as wide as a flycatcher's. Lifesaver raised one eyebrow, intrigued by Zero's outburst. 

"Zero!" Monroe barked at last. "You won't question my motives. I will not tolerate another outburst. You should be thanking me. I'm bringing this dump back up to code. And I'll have you know that Hawkmoon has been a very close friend of mine since I was young. She is _nothing_ like those savages my father let run loose during the first Maverick War. And if Genesis has a problem with Lifesaver's supervision, well, he can find someplace else to polish his shades." 

Monroe flitted off, Lifesaver following dutifully behind. 

Zero's patience was wearing mighty thin.   
  
  
  


Ange was sick, and that was an understatement. She trembled and sweat violently, unable to draw herself up from her sleeping mat in the corner. Torrent gently helped her into a sitting position. So, she'd survived step one. That was very good. 

"Can you stand up?...I do believe it's working. Good. That'll let us keep going into step two..." 


	9. Red Raptor

**Chapter 9: Red Raptor**

"Patients in beds 10 to 25, please line up in the red zone for your medications." 

"Patients in beds 10 to 25, please line up in the white zone for your medications." 

"...Patients in beds 10 to 25, please line up in the _red_ zone for your medications!" 

"...Patients in beds 10 to 25, please line up in the _white_ zone for your medications!" 

"Damn it Lifesaver, don't start up with this 'white zone' shit again!" 

"Genesis, the red zone has not been properly sterilized to receive--" 

"Blah blah, friggin' blah. Any more of your nonsensical twaddle and I'll sterilize the red zone upside the back of ye'er head." 

The lineup of human patients in the Medical Unit, their hunting garb traded in for blue cotton robes that let their arses wag in the wind, stared at each other bemusedly. Lying in bed was certainly more interesting, now that Lifesaver was here to overthrow Genesis, the formally undisputed Lord of the Bactine Swabs. After awhile, the patients got tired of the bickering and crumpled the wee pill-cups in their palms before going back to their beds for a lie-down. No sedatives today, which meant smuggled beer and dirty-joke swapping tonight, which meant bleary hangovers in the morning. 

The fight would've gone on for hours, with Genesis spitting like a cat and Lifesaver thoughtfully stroking his bracebit (As if he were a canny professor with a beard to prove it--it was a gesture that irritated Genesis thoroughly, and Lifesaver performed it frequently for that reason), had not Tess started howling for her supper. 

Genesis' face sagged. There may be fights over who's king around here, he thought, but there's no question as to who's the _queen._

Tess' belly was abundant, swollen with fertile bounty. Her little clone was ready to be born at any second. Genesis had warned her to take it easy until the day came. She had ignored him, of course, so now she was confined to strict supervision. On top of all the cheese-whiz that was going on with Lifesaver, Genesis didn't need to be stuck babysitting a human who was too spoiled to use the common sense God gave her. The girl made insane demands at insane times of the night. And more than once, she'd screamed that she was going into labour, then said she was "just kidding" after everyone had come running to her service like firemen to a firebell. As the day of "joy" came closer, Tess became as restless and crazy as any pregnant human did, but she would disappear if allowed out for exercise, so she was confined to her bed for longer hours, which caused her to go crazier. She was a vicious she-wolf chasing her tail. Genesis idly recalled from some recess that wolves sometimes ate their young, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on Tess _after_ the birth as well. 

To Genesis' combined relief and frustration, Lifesaver attended to Tess' meal for the night. Lifesaver and Tess got along just fine. They probably had lovely tales to swap about poor mangy Genesis. Yes indeed. Well, both of them could explode, for all he cared. 

Yet, in that deep-down squishy place that was rank with emotions decomposing from underuse, something in Genesis stirred and cried like a hungry little bird. It was sadness, with a lemon-twist of resentment. Genesis had rarely failed to get along with any human, and when he _did_ fail, such as in Tess' case, he always felt a little ashamed of himself, no matter how feral that particular human was. Yet that prim newcomer, Lifesaver, had won Tess over. Damn Lifesaver. 

_Only I'M allowed to befriend the humans in here,_ something in Genesis shrilled like a child throwing a tantrum in reaction to a change in his comfortable existence. _This is MY domain!_

And yet, things were changing. The patients received Lifesaver warmly. 

Was Genesis losing his touch...? 

_Oh, Lordy no! Never! Who the hell does Lifesaver think he is, walking in here as if he were the Highlord of Gangrene Town? If Monroe thinks he's going to replace me, he's got another think coming._

"Beds 10 to 25!" the fox bellowed. "Who the feck gave you permission to walk away from me? I call the shots here, not Professor Boxface. You will line up in the _red zone_ and Lifesaver will bloody well _like_ it. If he doesn't, I invite him to get down on his knees, coat his tongue with rubbing alcohol, and sterilize the zone himself, _after_ I make him bark like a dog and play dead." 

The humans murmured their approval as they got up for their medicine. Lifesaver's face was it's usual expressionless fare, but his eyes shimmered with amusement as he removed his headpiece and scratched at the brown nest it protected. 

"Very well Genesis," he said, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll see to some duties in the Reploid repair lab." 

"Sure, after you've gone crying to Monroe, right? Take a hike." 

"Oh really now Genesis. Do I strike you as a tattletale?" 

Genesis bared his teeth slightly, but he turned away. 

"Genesis! Take off those godforsaken Bono Raybans and look at me! Then answer my question!" 

Lifesaver's voice was as sharp as a fox's bark. Genesis was startled into looking at his tormentor who stood placidly, with his hands linked behind his back. 

_Well?_ Lifesaver's semicircle eyes told him. _Things are falling apart around us, but we can be friends. We can hold up the foundations as they sag. You're scared of change, but you have no reason to be scared of me. But you must be able to look me in the eyes and trust me._

Genesis' paws moved of their own will as they snatched the visor off his snout. Unseen archers shot bolts of pure light into his unprotected eyes, which flew easily into the back of his head and set cymbals crashing and bells ringing. A long-sleeping dragon in Genesis' awoke to the noise, irritated, and immediately set to engulfing his brain with invisible fire. 

Sheer agony. But Genesis didn't flinch. He turned his eyes up to meet Lifesaver's own. 

Lifesaver's face actually twitched as he locked optics with what Genesis had kept hidden for so many years. But he, too, didn't flinch. 

An old, old fox and a young eagle. Good things could indeed come of such a union. A silent pact was made. Genesis sighed through his nose as he replaced his shades and put the rampaging dragon back to sleep. 

"We can be friends," Lifesaver repeated in a low voice. "Perhaps Monroe put me here with the intent of taking over. He certainly seems to think that constant change is the path to renewal. But I don't agree. You have a good thing here, Genesis. I would never take it from you. These humans love you. Even Tess. She'll never admit it to you, but she told me. Monroe's young and impatient. His fevered changes will tear the Hunters apart. But let's let one good thing come of his reign." 

A smile oozed, warm and fertile, across Genesis' face. That was all Lifesaver needed. He smiled back (it was painful--his mouth wasn' t used to such strenuous excercise). 

"Yes. We are going to be good friends."   
  


*****

  
  


"Errrr...Miss Phoenix?" 

"Yes?" Phoenix was digging in a damp box of stuff. "Speak up, Neon." 

"Overdrive is sobbing uncontrollably in the other room." 

"Who?" 

"Overdrive." Neon added as an afterthought; "Ostrich." 

"Oh, yeah." Phoenix started to sit back on her heels and stopped herself just in time, unconsciously recalling the dangerous barbs there that would've loved to bury themselves in her arse. "Yeah, I'd expect that. I sent him to make technical lists and see what he can do with those mangled Mavericks in the front foyer." 

"Aw, but miss, you know how much Overdrive hates machinery! He'll wither and die." 

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." 

"Has it..." Neon swallowed boldly. "Has it occoured to you that maybe...you would benefit...if you let him do what he loves? Biology?" 

Phoenix started pawing around the rat-eaten cardboard again. "Has it occoured to you, dear tiger, that it would benefit you if you left this room before I turned you into the posterboy for Hell's Frosted Flakes? You leave the big thinking up to me. I know what I'm doing. Overdrive needs discipline." 

Neon padded out, shaking his head. No good would come of this.   
  


*****

  
  


Hot tears of rage and frustration numbed Overdrive's throat and tapped insistantly at his eyeballs. But he wouldn't let them spill. Oh no. He was tired of crying. He would do his bloody job and show Phoenix that she wouldn't have to sell him to Christine McGee for bed-stuffing after all. 

Gently, Overdrive drummed his fingers across the skull and snout of what appeared to be the remains of Spark Mandrill, dragging trails in the fine feather coat that dusted the monkey. Were there any parts that could be used to make new Mavericks? That was the question Overdrive had been assigned to answer. But his heart took a walk away from his head and his thoughts wandered as he gazed down at the cold maw of his friend. Alas, poor Sparky. I knew him, Horatio-- 

Mandrill's dead jaws reflexively clamped their needle-sharp teeth down on Overdrive's paw. 

"Oh, ffffffFFFFF--!" Overdrive started to scream, but he instead ripped the gnawing skull off the meat of his hand and hurled it against the far wall. Mandrill's meal ended with a loud PING! as he struck and fell, where he gazed at his tormenter with hungry, accusing eyes. 

The spindly animal's fondness for his old friend soured, and he kicked the noggin across the room. The room recieved the metallic din gleefully after so many years of silence. An ostrich's kick was a powerful thing. 

"Eat THAT, Sparky," he spat. "You can continue rotting in whatever hell bad reploids get sent to. Go play some class of tea party with Vile while you're down there, and splash the bitter stuff in his face for leaving us here, alone and broken, with that oul' bitch Phoenix as our matron." 

Tantrum thrown, Overdrive sat down hard, his fanny imprinting in the dust. Phoenix was back on her feet, so there was no room in her band anymore for bunglers, not even the ones who'd stuck with her on the worst days. Overdrive realized that the flaming avian would likely keep him chained to these damnable bits of reploid, in this dusty old room, until he was driven insane. Overdrive was loathe to work with cold, sterile machinery, what with its clanking and noise and dripping, stinking oil. He wanted bones, skin, bile and bodily fluids, genetics. And you couldn't ask the sun to rise while the moon was still high in the sky. 

"I'll leave," he said aloud, and squawked faintly at the power with which he declared his intentions. 

_Good one. Where you gonna go?_

"I'll show Phoenix. I'll show her I can serve her without messing up. I'll create a creature for her, a being of power and beauty that God Himself could not concieve--" 

Overdrive blanked out. 

"...I'll make her a pony!" 

Overdrive's big idea went only so far. He didn't know _what_ he'd make for Phoenix, and there were no materials here, besides. So he'd have to go away to give birth to his masterpiece, like a cow crawling into the thicket. 

_But where?_

Why, to someone who shared his passions, of course. Someone who would take him on as an apprentice. 

The bird dropped his hand down to a disguised panel hidden in his chest armour. The hinges cried slightly as he opened it and removed a folded piece of paper, swiped with pencil crayon and magic marker, from the compartment. 

The picture on the paper resembled a child's idea of a sea-serpent. 

Even Mavericks have heros. 

Overdrive Ostrich had been born shortly before the second Maverick War. He never got a chance to meet Torrent Leviathan, but he knew everything about the big Mechadrake. Torrent lived in the sewers during the first Maverick War, his veteran friends said, and he was probably still there today. He supposedly declared himself on the side of the Mavericks, but anyone with half a meatloaf in their oven knew that Torrent didn't care a set of bongos for Hunters _or_ Mavericks. If the sky should tumble and fall, or if the mountain should crumble into the sea, or if the Maverick Army exploded spontaneously one yummy sunny day, Torrent wouldn't shed a tear. 

But Torrent did grand work with genetics and biochemistry. Very grand. And maybe, just maybe, he'd want an apprentice. 

And maybe Torrent would give him an idea that would win back Phoenix's praise. 

Yes, that would be nice. 

It was time to prepare. 

  
  


*****

  
  


"No. That doesn't strike me as too unusual," Genesis said as he rubbed behind one of his furry ears. 

Celeste looked up, surprised. 

"No. Not too unusual at all. Mindspeak, eh? Sounds like something I could do without. I wouldn't need my worst enemy--say, Tess--hollering for me 24-7. Although, it might work if we came to an agreement of sorts. 'Stay out of my thoughts between 2 and 4! That's Genesis' time!' Ha ha. Enough. I'll be serious now. Who did you say tormented you during the first Maverick War?" 

"Torrent Leviathan." Celeste's voice was sour. 

"Ooooh, HIM." 

The two friends were in the Medical Unit, tucked away in one of the less occupied corners so no one else would hear Celeste's private lamentations. It was certainly interesting, Genesis decided silently. Better she gets it off her mind, even if I _do_ have to put it down in the report. 

"Do you hear from him anymore?" asked Genesis, who watched absently as a rookie assistant, who apparently assumed he wasn't currently under the gaze of his fox master, dumped a wastebucket full of gauze and paper towel in the nearby washroom's toilet and flushed. The toilet made a sick, strangling sound. 

"No, I haven't," Celeste said. "Well, not directly. But honestly, Mindspeak isn't directly responsible for my state of mind right now. I just haven't been able to sleep. Weird dreams and such." 

"About?" 

"My past." 

"Lord above, what'll it take to bleed _that_ out of you?" 

Celeste shrugged. "I guess my 'narcolepsy' mostly consists of plain old tiredness." 

"Or botched up Mindspeak signals," Genesis suggested. "Someone's trying to tell you something somewhere, or maybe someone else with Mindspeak is sending a message to a friend that's not quite your business, and it got to you instead somehow. But your mind couldn't decipher it because it wasn't yours. I don't know. Don't give me that look, I'm sure you aren't the only one in the world who has the ability to catch mind currents." 

Celeste swung her legs from the side of the bed she sat on, subconsciously trying to rid herself of the trapped feeling that breathed down on her. "No, I can tell you right off that my father had it." 

"Which is why he was always different and strange." 

"Yes." 

"And which is why he got himself killed." 

"Yes." 

"Because Torrent was tormenting him, and there was only one way to be freed." 

"Most likely." 

"Hmmm." Genesis sucked on his teeth, deep in thought, ignoring the rookie who wailed from the washroom, "Genesis! Somebody broke the toilet!" 

Finally, the fox tossed his shoulders again. "I don't know what to tell you, but it's good you talked to me, though. If it still keeps up, maybe I can give you something to help sleep, if you don't think it's narcolepsy. But I'm still marking the affliction down in the report, _and_ I'm keeping an eye on you." 

"And if Cain sees it, I'm out on my ass." 

"He won't bother." Genesis pulled up some secure files on the Unit's computer screen and added mentally, _don't we hope._   
  


*****

  
  


Overdrive was in the fortress' dusty old kitchen, fixing some peanut butter and birdseed sandwiches for the trip to Torrent's hell. Violen entered, his piggy snout wrinkling a mile a minute as it detected some promise of glorious food. The huge reploid's head poked around Overdrive's shoulder and gazed longingly at the stack of bland bread and paste. 

"Ooo! Can I have one?" 

Thoroughly annoyed at the interruption, Overdrive didn't miss a beat. "Sure. Here." He smashed the open-end sandwich he was preparing into Violen's face, who, much to Overdrive's disgust, peeled what he could off his mug and started to munch away with a look of bliss. The ostrich shook his head and reached for another two slices of bread. 

"You're makin' a lot of sandwiches, Overdrive," Violen said, spraying his friend with a vile shower of mushy yeast. 

"My stars! Your powers of deduction astound me! You shouldn't be wasting your time hanging around here! Go! Go! For the good of the city!" 

"Loser." Violen turned to leave when a sudden thought actually succeeded in sinking its huge hooks into his tiny brain. 

"Oh! I almost forgot to show you!" 

"What? WHAT?" 

Still chewing, Violen threw an old ledger, slimy and yellow with mildew, down on the counter beside Overdrive's Tower of Sandwich. Overdrive winced as the diseased book made contact with his food. "What manner of rubbish is this?" 

"Miss Phoenix found it," Violen said, "hidden away in Doppler's main chamber. Apparently, Sigma even found it before _him._ Do you remember when we used to live here? Before we caught Zero and you screwed it up? Phoenix found Wily's old journal describing that Zero belonged to him. And when Zero was here (before you skrood it up), he confessed that Wily was his daddy. " 

"Yeah, so? What's this?" 

Violen shrugged. "Read it. You might say it's the prequel." 

"Aha?" Overdrive stopped building his sandwich. 

"Yeah, reveals a few more tidbits about the Crimson Wanker that we didn't know. Could actually ruin him Hunter-wise if they knew what was written there." Violen tapped the book as if in taunt. 

"So? Bring it to Maverick Hunter HQ!" 

"Yeah, want me to knock on the door? 'Ding Dong, Avon calling! Read this book we found and try not to mind that it's covered in anthrax.' They wouldn't take anything from a Maverick. And if they _did_ take it, they'd accuse it of being a forgery or something." 

"Well, what do you want _me_ to do?!" 

"Like I said, read it. If nothing else, it's extremely interesting. It might help us in the future, so don't spill anything on it. Thanks for the sandwich. See ya." 

Finally alone, Overdrive cocked his head at the Book of Secrets. Such a rat-eaten thing was probably a nest to a family of fleas, and yet it could ruin Zero? Although Phoenix could go piss up a tree as far as Overdrive was concerned, he was enormously curious about this new find. He opened the notebook with hands as tender as a mother's with an infant. He didn't want to rip or crack any pages. 

Sure enough, mites slithered out of the spine. Overdrive brushed them away and looked at the first page. 

He dropped the book on the counter with a squawk. It landed with a dusty slap. 

Prequel indeed. 

Overdrive was gazing on the journal of one of Wily's most lethal robots, Bass. Through whatever means, Sigma had gotten a hold of Bass' thoughts, immortalized on this yellowed paper. 

The idea sent electricity thrilling through his system. Reading the first few paragraphs, the brilliant bird knew that he'd stumbled across something much, much bigger than anything that old hooer Phoenix and her dimwitted cohorts could ever understand. 

The journal was his, now. 

Overdrive continued reading. 

Unlike Wily's prose, which had been sucked dry and brittle from years of relentless scientific study, Bass apparently had a flair for dynamics and creativity. Wily's creation, who had been a very mere step down from the social order of the Reploid race, also had a message for the future. 

Hear me. 

I write this for the generation that was born today, the generation that had the honour of being born alongside my baby brother, who was brought to life this day. He was birthed, bloodlessly, painlessly, by my father, Wily. 

You new infants who today drink your exhausted mothers' milk, know that you will witness Armageddon. Your kind will die, and our kind will rise to fill the void. If your children survive the coming wars, the name of their undisputed Lord will lace their whispered conversations with terror as they cringe together in grey ditches like the dogs of humankind: Zero. 

The delicious mental repast went on, far better than any peanut butter and birdseed sandwich. Through the journal, Overdrive witnessed Zero's creation and lethal infancy under Bass' toutorship. With the vivid words of Wily's robot, the enthralled ostrich's fertile mind played Zero's story like a movie screen. Overdrive watched as Zero effortlessly wasted legions of robots. Overdrive watched and listend as Bass described to him the time Zero entered Slash Man's "Robosaur Park"--and the ferocious, foul-tempered velociraptor pack ran _away_ from him, chirring to each other in stark terror, smelling primal death on this newcomer's bones. Zero ran alongside them, a raptor himself, bits of bloody crimson light flying off him as your eye struggled to catch up. He leaped on the back of the alpha male with the ease of a boy zipping down a slide and lopped the leader's head off his sinewy shoulders. More bits of red flew off the warrior as the animal's blood mingled with his curdling howl of hell's laughter. 

And then Overdrive read about the noose that would forever hang around Zero's neck. 

Smelling blood one Godless winter day, Zero stumbled on a quaint mining settlement, hidden on the Skeleton Grasslands. The reploid informed his big brother, who'd accompanied him on the walk, that he was surprised humans would settle out on land that was reportedly streaked with veins of radiation left over from old wars. Bass asked if that mattered. Zero said of course not, and picked up a little girl who stumbled past him while trying to run for her mother. The little girl's screams of terror took on a shriller, more urgent note as Zero swung her by her arms, and, like a child angry with his Christmas present, smashed her legs to pieces on the iron-like soil. The light dusting of snow on the ground flew up in a rage upon impact. 

That was the signal. Zero and Bass reared, devil and midnight stallions alike, and charged through the town, ripping up whatever was rooted down, killing anything that pumped blood. Their hands gulped down whatever evidence of life and creation they could grasp and digested it into death and destruction. Splinters of charred wood, blood, scattered tools and uprooted winter gardens were the only company of the dead, and the only sustenance of those whose life steamed away on the stinging carpet of snow below them. 

That was all very nice, but Overdrive's eye turned back near something written at the beginning of the journal. 

Apparently, Wily didn't have the materials that were needed to make up the biological and psychological elements of a reploid. So he'd converted a human to a reploid instead of building it from the ground up. 

_Turned a human into a reploid..._

Overdrive stroked the chin he didn't have. 

_Turned a human into a reploid!_

Indeed, it was time to find Torrent Leviathan. Overdrive slammed the journal closed, jammed it in his armour, and sprinted out of the kitchen, leaving his sandwiches to the army of rats that crawled out of their holes to participate in the grand feast the nice bird had obviously prepared for them. 


	10. Iris

It wuzza dark and stormie night when Iris opened her eyes to the world. 

There was no gala to greet her revival, no free drinks, no flying black squirrels, no barmaids dressed in skin-tight red satin. 

That was the way Lifesaver liked it. 

"She's not saying much," Genesis said as he thoughtfully watched her peck around his domain. "But I'm glad you got rid of that damnable dress of hers. What was up with that dishrag, anyway? The jumpsuit she has now is a lot niftier." Indeed, Iris was outfitted with a very plain blue suit sans her raspberry barret. 

"No, she won't say much for while," Lifesaver admitted. "She's retained a good deal of her memories. She asked if her brother was also revived, an she didn't like the response. But I think she'll do well here for now, until she gets her bearings." 

"I can always use help. And I assume you'll be in the lab more." 

"That's where Monroe wants me." Genesis thought he detected the faintest whiff of a sigh. "I'll be around, of course. Lord above forbid I don't keep you in line, you old fox-fart." 

"'Fox-fart!' That's our secret word for the day!" Genesis threw a box of bloodied syringes at Lifesaver and pointed at the sink. "Get washing." 

Lifesaver couldn't keep a grin out of his eyes. "But Monroe--" 

"Bugger Monroe." Genesis headed to the wall console and punched in the sequence for Zero's wrist-com. 

Zero's voice rattled over the speaker, but he chose not to grace the world with a visual. "Whuzzuh?" 

"You awake, Zero?" Genesis called nonchalantly while walking back to his desk. 

"Yeah, sure, why not. What do you want?" 

"Your valuable services," Genesis said. "You used to work for me, remember? And despite the times you fudged up, you _were_ actually useful in one particular area, and the time is very near at hand for your talents..." 

* * *

_Oh, the way the lightning spears the sky like the Holy Lances of God's Host...tumbling to earth in a firey vengence. The magnificent battles of angels. God is on his great throne of Judgement, and we are but ants before His wild fire, His will, His wrath._

"Damn storm," was what actually came out of Monroe's mouth. 

"I can hear it all right," Hawkmoon said. The gaunt silver Mechadrake stood beside her friend by the huge plate glass window in Cain's office, enjoying the thrum and growl of the vibrations. "It's like a concert." 

"Hrmph." Metaphors seemed to blister and die when they reached Monroe's prim tongue. 

"Nobody likes me here," Hawkmoon said suddenly. Her tone didn't change. 

"That's their problem," Monroe said fiercely. 

"Maybe not." Hawkmoon left it at that, but her tone implied no thoughts of offering to leave. 

Monroe wasn't taking chances. "Don't you even dare think about leaving," he barked. "I need you here. I have the feeling I'm not about to win any friendship awards, either. But I don't give a holy F about _their_ opinions. I'm just trying to clean up what my father screwed up. I warned them they wouldn't like it." 

"You're a crumby liar, Monroe," Hawkmoon half-frowned. "First off all, I can bloody well go where I please, when I please. I'm not your personal security blanket." 

"Oh!" Monroe turned from the rattling window. A hyena-smile snarled his lips. "And where would you go, my dear? Back to _him?_ I don't think so." 

Hawkmoon snapped her jaws shut like a bear trap. She wasn't about to challenge that one. 

"I wouldn't leave you anyway," she said in a low voice. "All we have is each other, my boy." 

* * *

_Oh my, what a...cute little rat. Nice rattie. Please go away..._

Startled by the size of the intruder, the rank grandfather dog of the sewers brayed and slashed at the reploid's long legs, cutting right down to the steel bone. 

"GaaaAAAH!" Overdrive Ostrich started to scream, immediately clamping his beak with one hand. 

_Calmblueocean, calmblueocean..._

Overdrive forced himself to asses his injury. _Oh, look at that. Right down to the bone. My, how startling the blood looks, pumping out of me like a river and pouring into that stinking black murk that might be water. A bird that was meant to run free on the open plains of Africa does real well in the sewers, it seems. Ha ha!_

Upon closer inspection, Overdrive noticed a great deal of foamy white saliva slicked around the wound. _Ha ha! Look at that! If I were a human, I'd be taking my tea with Jim Morrison tonight. But I am not going to scream, oh no. I'm going to remain perfectly...calm...and...not wake up whatever else is LURKING IN THIS GODFORSAKEN HOLE THAT TORRENT STUFFS HIS MISERABLE BODY INTO--_

"Associating me with rabid rat bites? How very syrupy of you, gentle bird." 

Overdrive _did_ scream, a long, harsh sound that only a demon should have been capable of. The platoons of rats rattled in their holes and joined their scaly voices into the anguished song like a bastardized wolf pack. 

"HOSPITAL--ZONE--!" Torrent roared as he circled Overdrive's neck easily with one paw and smashed his head against the slimy wall. "MY PATIENT!" (blam) "IS TRYING!" (blam) "TO NAP!" (blam) 

Overdrive stopped his noise real quickly. His scream dwindled to an anguished moan. Torrent shrugged and dropped Overdrive, where he lay on the spot like a grossly misshapen down pillow. 

"Well, with immediate concerns taken care of, let's go to my fire and talk. By God, I'll bet your story is interesting. 

* * *

The sights and sounds of the Medical Unit always brought a barrage of (unpleasant) memories rushing back on Zero. The bleached beds that made an angel's robe look like a hobo's hankerchief...the dreary scent of alchohol that had a way of wrapping around your stomach...Zero remembered it all, and the sensation of dread struck anew every time he visited. The Hunter had been forced to work as a nurse during a good part of the first Maverick War, and he hadn't always enjoyed the job. It never occoured to him, however, that his papa might've felt a sliver of pride at his boy following in his footsteps. Even if the alliance was wrong. 

But that night when Genesis called him in, Zero had the feeling that something about the ward was amiss. Something that'd been there for the past nine months was gone. 

The place was silent. The few humans who occupied the beds were long asleep. For the first time in ages, the air wasn't pressed down by the demanding shrieks of-- 

"Where's Tess?" Zero said in unconscious alarm. 

Genesis grinned. "Easy cowboy. She's fine for now." The fox led him to the curtained-off partition that held the young Huntress. Tess didn't even look at them. She drowsed in the moonlight, her eyes half closed, her hand spread on her vast stomach. She looked peaceful. Almost likeable. 

"She's been like this all day," Genesis explained. "Very still, very quiet. It's a refreshing change for sure, but don't get your hopes up. I've seen this kind of thing plenty of times before. So have you, Zero. She can hear the baby calling." 

Zero nodded. "Yep. Only a matter of hours now. Enjoy the silence now, 'cause she'll be screaming like a banshee soon enough. I guess that's why you called me?" 

"Yeah. I'll be needing your help." 

Half forgotten, Lifesaver walked over from the sink to stand beside Zero. "So then. The same hands that are stained with the blood of death will be later stained with the blood of life? What do _you_ know about deliveries, Hunter?" 

Lifesaver spat out the last word like a bad-tasting bite of fruit. Zero wasn't fond of Lifesaver, who had a habit of standing too close and saying too much. And around the Hunter, he frequently had the air of a dog who stiffly wagged its tail, but growled gently in its throat. 

"I know enough," Zero bit. "I've done my share." The Hunter flushed in an uncomfortable manner that had nothing to do with Lifesaver's interrigation. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. 

"When Zero first arrived, he would mix up the patients' medications for kicks," Genesis said, "but he was always good at birthing for some strange reason. It's always the sadists, eh Zero?" 

Zero didn't respond. He felt like two small holes were being bored into the back of his neck with a red hot drill. "I--" he began, but couldn't finish for the pressure behind him. He turned around. 

Iris was staring at him. The gaze was as steady and laconic as a memorial statue, but a million unsung accusations suddenly leapt out and stabbed Zero at once. Zero actually staggered backwards into Genesis. 

"Hey now!" the medic yelped as the Hunter stepped on his paw. 

"Ssss-sorry." Zero's serpentine apology had nothing to do with Genesis. 

"I'm not surprised," Iris said in her soft, watery voice. _It hasn't changed,_ Zero's mind gibbered. For one horrible instant, the past came rushing in on him like stagnant water. He very nearly lost control and started to cry like a lost kid. Overwhelmed, his pleading eyes actually reached out to Lifesaver. 

Lifesaver offered no branch. _So then Hunter, one more skeleton in your storage capsule, eh?_

Alone, Zero steeled himself and regained his composure. "Hello, Iris." 

"My brother isn't here, Zero. They revived me alone. What's next? Maybe they'll build half a hospital? Maybe half a tank." 

Something sickly churned in Zero's heart. The feeling diffused in his blood and flowed to his limbs, numbing them with an emotion that wasn't just sadness and guilt. 

"You're different now, Zero," Iris padded on. 

"I think it's high time you got some rest, Iris," Genesis said aloud. He may as well have spoken to a can of pop. 

"I loved you, Hunter. Maybe I still do, God help me. But you're angry, you're vengeful, and in time you'll kill and hurt more people who care about you. Your soul feeds on blood, craves murder. You're much more spontaneous than a reploid should be. That human tart you're so smitten by is obviously a bad influence on you. But I have little doubt your passions will eventually kill her--" 

Moving like a cat, Zero grabbed and flung a table of stainless steel instruments onto the floor. The noise was tremendous, and some of the humans (veterans of the wars) woke up howling commands to their invisible units. The noise infuriated Zero further. He roared and pounced on Iris, who backed into the wall, terrifed. Zero couldn't see, he couldn't hear, but he could smell blood and terror and a helpless victim, and that was all he needed. His teeth gleamed, his hand hooked and drew back-- 

"Ze--_ro!_" A metal wastebasket tocked off Zero's helmet with a clang. The red mist drained from Zero's eyes, as if a secret button had been pushed. 

Iris was crouched in a ball in front of him, trembling like a little brown mouse in a nest of debris. Dazed, Zero reached down a tentative hand, but he was jerked back and turned around. Lifesaver, uncharacteristicly angry, snarled at him. 

"Coward," he said. "Bully and a coward. Attacking unarmed women! You did it once. I shouldn't be surprised you did it again. Monroe will hear all about this--" 

"No. He won't." Genesis said flatly. 

Lifesaver boggled. "You can't be serious, fox." 

"I am. Zero is famous for losing his temper. Your pet Iris should have remembered that much. She egged him on." 

"But Genesis--" 

"Butts are for sitting, ha ha. Keep your bracebit shut, Lifesaver, or our alliance is over and Monroe will eat the foundations of this place like a termite. And Zero--" Genesis turned to the Hunter, "--what in God's name is wrong with you? I've never seen you flare like that." 

"Pressure," Zero mumbled, barely audiable. It wasn't a lie. "I'm--sorry, Iris." 

Genesis was stern. "See to it that it doesn't happen again--especially not in front of strangers. I can keep my mouth shut. If Lifesaver and the humans in this room know what's good for them, they will too. I have a feeling I'm going to regret not reporting this. You're going to get yourself in litres of trouble if you don't smarten up and calm down." 

_I can't control it. It's getting worse and worse._ Zero wisely kept the thought to himself. But he'd experienced such surges of anger in the past. One led him to nearly kill Celeste, and a more recent one took a good chunk out of a Hunter in Celeste's unit, Jody. 

"I'll be more careful, Genesis," the Hunter said out loud. "Thanks." 

"Don't make me regret anything, friend." 

"I won't," Zero muttered, feeling like the inside of his head was being used to stage the Anvil Chorus. He put his hands on his temples and shuffled out of the room. It was all too much. Iris was back, Lifesaver smelled something funny about him, he nearly killed an innocent girl--again--and looming over it all was Monroe. Monroe, the scourge of his life that he could do nothing about. The thoughts raced around his mind like kiddy-carts and he chewed on the poison over and over and over. 

Many miles away, something crawled through the slime at the bottom of a dark Scottish lake... 

* * *

"So." Torrent closed Bass' journal with a powdery poof. "That's the way it is." 

Overdrive said nothing, drowning in a brew of terror and admiration for the Mechadrake. He sat as close to the fire as possible, the only natural thing to exist in Torrent's tomb. 

"And you mentioned...you want to try this 'human into a reploid thing.'" 

"Yes. That's how Zero was created. Can you imagine?" 

"No, I DON'T imagine," Torrent said, his voice crushing Overdrive back into obedient silence, "because I don't CARE about the Hunters. And why keep it a secret? I don't give a flip about you Mavericks, either." 

"Sir, I..." Overdrive gulped. "I...ran away from the Maverick army. I wanted to be your apprentice." 

"Oh, well, how very-very and too-too." Torrent's voice was rife with scorn, but Overdrive could tell he was slightly flattered. He was thinking things over. 

The ostrich ventured further. "I...I would like to make something that would please Phoenix, and put me back in her favour. I think that human-reploid thing would do just that. Please, Lord Torrent, think it over. 

So! Torrent, once starved for projects, suddenly had a biological buffet before him. 

"My eyes are bigger than my stomach," he muttered and lapsed into another long bout of silence. 

The fire spat decidingly. 

"We'll need a human," he said, and Overdrive's heart turned happy cartwheels. Unconsciously, his beady eyes fell on the dark skinned human who sat some ways across from the duo, and was scribbling "THIS PLACE SUCKS" in white chalk on the wall. 

"No, not Ange you omadhaun." Torrent said suddenly. "I'm using her for something else. By God, she's come a long way. Her personality's changed drastically, too. But she's a gift for the Hunters." The Mechadrake tapped a claw on his filthy teeth. "On the other hand, she might need help. We'll build your damnable reploid, Overdrive. And we'll use a young human--a baby, preferably. If you're to be my apprentice, I'd like you to learn everything I know. And there's this process some Mechadrakes go through to spurt through growth--'soaking', it's called. I've been meaning to try that..." Torrent was now talking more to himself. Overdrive knew he was in for an interesting time. 

"Where would we get a baby, milord?" 

"I have my connections. Don't rush me, and don't question me. When I'm ready to tell you anything, you'll know. In the meantime, why not play fetch with Ange?" 

Overdrive looked at the female, who was now eating a raw fish she'd caught with her bare hands...with a side of chalk. 

Yes...it was going to be a very interesting time. 


	11. Jake

**Chapter 11: Jake**

Genesis waddled into the Medical Unit with piles of sheets dripping from his furry arms. Tess' birthing experience left the starting gate about an hour ago. Some babies came as easily as a girl running down the lane. The fox knew this particular birth wasn't going to be so tranquil. No, it was going to be a difficult and nasty event like prying open a rusty gate. Today's miracle of birth was going to be a miracle of drugs and acoustics. 

For now, Tess was quiet. She'd been ordered to keep still, and for once, she was obeying Genesis. So the doctor took advantage of the downtime to get some other odds and ends done. Zero was on his way to help, as promised, and Iris was preparing-- 

Genesis stopped. He blinked his eyes behind his shades and peeked out from behind the mountain of cloth he was holding. 

Iris was about ten metres in front of him, oblivious to the world as usual and fixated on the task before her. Genesis had sent her to re-organize some simple insturments, but Iris' pretty brow was creased deeply, as if she were performing a triple bypass on the President. That was nothing new. Iris, who was a renowned multitasker during the Repliforce Wars, now seemed to have a difficult time with the easiest jobs. The matter still boggled Lifesaver. 

What boggled Genesis, however, was the fact that Iris stuffed herself into a dress again. Literally. Somewhere, she'd found a castoff from a human woman. The dress was no better than a rag. It was a vomitous puce colour, and looked as if it'd been dragged through the dirt a few times by coyotes. The hem was chewed, likely by a cat or raccoon. The pathetic scrap was also about four sizes too small, and just not meant to fit the reploid frame. Iris stood out like a monument to filth in Genesis' immaculate den. 

Best of all, two human boys whom the fox had never seen before were boldly lifting up the back of Iris' skirt, peeking and giggling. Genesis wordlessly dropped his sheets and grabbed the two budding perverts. He cracked their heads together soundly, and threw them out. Iris didn't even turn around. 

Genesis laid a paw on the girl's shoulder. Iris nearly jumped through the ceiling. The insturments she was working with clattered to the floor. 

"Iris," Genesis bent over and scooped up a pawful of surgical steel. "why are you wearing that?" 

Iris went back to her fumbling. "I like it," she mumbled. 

"Oh?" 

"My ... brother always liked me to be ladylike." 

Genesis recalled the Colonel's fondness for his sister -- and good grooming. Men were men. Women were ladies. Colonel wasn't chauvenistic ... just chivalrous. 

"Colonel isn't here, Iris." Genesis never had any trouble telling it like it was. "And Lifesaver dressed you in a jumpsuit for a reason. Those hoops of yours don't have any place in medical work." 

"This dress doesn't have any hoops." 

"No, dear," Genesis grunted as he recollected his pile of laundry, "but smocks that are swimming with disease don't have a place here, either. Look, stable 2 is empty. Draw the curtains and get changed back into your suit. Better yet, here." The fox expertly sifted the pile he was holding until a pair of surgical scrubs dropped into his hands. He tossed them at Iris. "Get dressed in those." 

Iris looked at the limp scrubs like they were a skin cruelly peeled off an animal. But she did as she was told -- at decelerated speed. She seemed unsure of every step she took. 

As Iris changed, Zero dragged himself into the Medical Unit. He'd not been having an easy time with life lately. He plodded up to Genesis. "Whee." 

"Ah, Zero. As promised." 

"Is Livesaver here? Because I can do without him." 

"No, just you and me," Genesis said. "Iris can lend a hand, but personally ... with the way she's acting lately, I wouldn't trust her to look after a dead Sea Monkey collection." 

Zero's mouth twitched. "I didn't scare her that badly, did I?" 

"No, she was demi-gonzo before you did that. She's missing a part of herself. Lifesaver can't get it through that square block of his, since his Ford-model brain regurgitates anything that isn't recorded scientific fact or data." Genesis lay the sheets on a nearby vacant bed and began to fold them with Zero's help. "But it's simple. She and Colonel were supposed to be one whole, but their personalities clashed and they became two instead. And it wasn't so clean cut as one being Yin and the other being Yang. I'm doing my best to be understanding of the 'new' Iris, as much as I sometimes feel like ripping out her tongue and rubbing her face all over with it. Her life's been pretty sandy." Genesis didn't need to mention the events that _made_ it sandy. Zero knew perfectly well. 

One thought lead to another. "Has she met Celeste yet?" Zero asked. 

"Not personally. Celeste's kept away from here. Besides circumstances leading her to be uncomfortable around me, she doesn't want to meet Iris, if she can help it. But Iris knows what Celeste means to you. Speaking of which, you'll have to forgive me, but I'm in the mood for poking you with a stick. I know you care about Cel as a good friend, but is there anything more than that?" 

"Meaning?" 

"Before you died in the first Maverick War, you proposed to her." 

The words slapped Zero across the face. "I, uh, er, oh, yugh ... sigh. How did you know that?" 

"So you _do_ remember?" Genesis' furry snout was wreathed in grins as he took the stack of folded laundry to the storage shelves and struggled to house the clean sheets. Zero helped out since he was considerably taller. 

"Don't worry, old man," Genesis said as he dusted off his paws. "She let me in on it quite by accident. You gave her that Lucas-class lightsabre of yours. The humans around here have several stupid mating dances. That's one of 'em, and I'm surprised you took such a gaudy route. But I already know that your taste is swill. What I want to know is, why haven't you brought the matter up to her since your revival?" 

Iris, donned green in scrubs, whipped aside the curtain to stable 2 and made a beeline back to her daunting task. She didn't even notice Zero. 

Zero looked at her and blinked like a lizard in the sun. "That's why." 

" ... you have the hots for Iris?" 

"No, but I _did_ try to kill her." 

Genesis cocked his head at Zero in a very doglike manner. "Oh." he said after a brief lag. "I get it now." 

"And I nearly killed Cel once," Zero drilled the steel toe of his boot into the floor tiles. "I never told anyone that, but I damn near came close. Remember when she was infected with that virus from Torrent? And whe went whacko and skewered me through my arm? I broke her leg in a reflex action, and I enjoyed her suffering a lot more than a healthy reploid should've." 

"Don't forget Jody," Genesis said helpfully. 

"Yes, and Jod --" Zero snapped his mouth shut like a fish on a fly. "Why am I telling you this? I hate your guts." 

Genesis showed teeth. "Because I'm so cuddly and fatherly. Anyway, I was just curious about you and Celeste. I'm not about to offer sympathy for your troubled lovelife, because a reploid shouldn't have one. And I always thought your relationship was bogus." 

"Go ahead Genesis, show us that famous charm of yours." 

The fox ignored Zero. "Why don't you explain to her what's going on inside that boiling little head of yours?" 

"Wrong time, wrong place, wrong motives. This whole organization is a cauldron right now. No time for personal comforts." 

"'Thus spake the lonliest reploid in the world.'" 

" ... What the hell?" 

* * *

Nytetrayn enjoyed long bouts of thoughtful silence, but he wasn't displeased when he saw Caillou arrive to sit beside him. Not feeling obligated as a conversation catalyst, Nyte merely continued to sharpen his fangs with a small bit of flint. 

"Hi," Caillou said at last. 

"H'lo." Nyte spit out a mouthful of dust onto the turf. "Haven't seen you in quite a while." 

"Been busy." 

"Hiding. Yes, of course." Nyte put his flint away. "Asmodeus sent some scouts to the surface. I wonder if he's actually planning on making some sort of attack before we all grow old, or maybe he's just wasting more time." 

"I'm putting money on the latter," Caillou said. 

"Not so sure," Nytetrayn countered, "or I wouldn't feel so uneasy about my personal safety as well as your own." The black Mechadrake's voice trailed off at the end of his sentence, and a sharkish grin seeped across his predatory maw. "I wonder ... " 

"What?" 

"Oh ... " Nyte was lost in another dimension. "Nevermind. It's probably nothing. No, Asmodeus would never allow such a stupid weakness to thrive in the warriors. Or would he ... ?" 

_"What?"_ Caillou was irritable. 

Nyte didn't like Caillou's tone, and a hard crack across the back of his head told him so. "You'll know if I _want_ you to know. But believe me when I say the Wankers of Eden might not be so difficult to defeat when the time comes. Watch yourself Caillou, and don't question me. You want out and I'll get you out. I'm obligated to for reasons your dense head hasn't sorted out yet. But I could just as easily turn you into Asmodeus and take a load of suspicion off myself." 

Caillou rubbed the new swell in the back of his skull, his mouth ajar in stunned silence. He was used to hard knocks, so he barely felt the sting, but Nyte's vicious monologue was a side of the 'drake he'd never seen before -- and didn't care much for, because the dragon meant every word. 

Nyte took out his flint again, thought better of scraping his fangs, and walked the flat rock between his long fingers instead. "Times are tense, boy," he answered, "and you have an odd manner like your father that betrays every thought on that long, ugly puss of yours. You're going to end up in trouble because of it. Like your papa." 

For the first time in his life, Caillou was puzzled about his heritage. "Well, feck, was my old man _that_ bad?" 

"I was a little squishy newt when he was here, but your father was a certified, in writing messed up psycho with no control over his fevered little brain. Thus, he was destined for trouble and he found it. I'll tell you a bit about him, if you want." 

"It's not that important--" 

"I'll tell you a bit about him, if you want," Nytetrayn said louder. "Us dragons need a good story exchange once in a while or we get testy. Besides, I owe you something for that clout I gave you upside the head, and a little infusion of your father's history might fortify your common sense." Nytetrayn leaned back against the convex wall, his black hide flecked with light from the grate-like catwalk above him. "It's the quiet hour now, and we shouldn't be disturbed. I've told you about my girl, Celeste, right? And I mentioned that I was obligated to get you out of here? Well, it's because you two share a lot in common. Let me tell you about a fellow named Jake McTreggor ... " 

* * *

_"Eden." Of all the stupid, ten cent comic book cliches ... _

Jake McTreggor sat indian-style in the belly of the Great Tree, beside a rushing vein of mean-tempered water that was about ten feet across. Revelations came thick and fast. 

_Who're they fooling? The security in this place is as feeble as an old dog. Why, there's no doubt this river runs to some underground cavern and eventually empties in some God-blessed place far away from here. The water's not friendly, but I'm a decent swimmer. I could take off any second I wanted to._

Jake's thoughts got stuck in the mud. 

_But I'm not about to go anywhere without Celeste. They could care less if I ran, as long as they at least have her._

Celeste, Jake had been told, was making a fine recovery from the genetic disease that had chewed her up. Of course, this was going by the word of Torrent Leviathan. But since handing his girl over, Jake had been forbidden to see her during her treatment. Torrent, however, promised that the two would be reunited soon. Jake was fast learning that "soon" was a very fickle word to a species whose lifespan made his own look like a mayfly's. 

Thirsty, Jake crept down to the edge of the river, cupped his hands, and caught himself a drink. The water tasted metallic and refused to settle well in his stomach. Nevertheless, he slurped away until he heard the scrape of ancient talons on the synthetic rock behind him. Jake whipped around. Perched on a boulder was the last sight he wanted to see; Torrent Leviathan. 

Torrent wagged an empty plastic cup in front of Jake. "Hello my friend!" the relic said cheerfully. "I've a glass. We use it for drinking. Perhaps you'd like to try it." 

Jake planted his palms on the slimy bank behind him and leaned back casually. "I'm done. Besides, I'm too old for any of your new fangled fads." 

"Nonsense. You're never too old. By the way, I don't recommend drinking out of that river. It's not the purest water in the world. You can easily get water from the Mess hall. Which you like to avoid. Like everything else here." 

"Yes, Torrent. I hate it here. Imagine that." 

"You haven't given it a chance." Torrent set the glass down beside him. "You're misbehaving, fighting, not fitting in. You don't show up for regular training sessions, even though you do score extremely well when you choose to bless us with your participation." 

Jake wiped a stray trickle of water from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. "Was I supposed to participate?" 

"Yes, you have an obligation to Eden." 

Jake's accent became more pronounced. "What the flying Jesus is _with_ this place?" he half laughed, half snarled. "Everyone here talks about taking back the world from robots or some such garbage, but all everyone ever does here is 'train' all day and get zombied all night! And this has been going on for _how_ many generations now? Everyone follows that Asmodayfrig, or whatever his name is, without question. But he's not doing a damn thing except sitting on his high perch and saying a bunch of pretty words that roll like thunder across the assembly, but mean _nothing_. It's a farce." 

"Why yes Jacob, it is." Torrent said mildly. "Asmodeus loves to talk. Will he ever act on his words? I do believe he will, eventually, but he takes his time. But this doesn't solve the problem of you being a thankless troublemaker." 

For the first time since Torrent's arrival, Jake noticed the Mechadrake was holding something alive and unpleasant-looking. It was about the size of a housecat, and Torrent had it tucked under one scaly arm. For a fleeting instant, Jake was reminded of -- 

"Yes, you used to hold Celeste this way," Torrent reminded him in a lazy drawl. 

"What ... _is_ that?" 

The dragon thrust the creature at Jake, who instinctively shuffled back and ended up with sopping shoes. "Jacob, meet the latest product of what we call 'Soaking.' This is the start of one of Eden's Mechadrakes. He'll be known as Atticus 15." 

Atticus was not charmed. The red-gold lizard rolled an ugly tusked head on a squat neck, and opened a blunt red mouth to hiss silently at Jake. Its hind legs jutted out akwardly from its body, toes spread wide and tipped with needle claws. 

"_That's_ a Mechadrake?" 

"The start of one," Torrent shrugged. "We do things a little differently down here. Mechadrakes are primarily robotic, but there's a great biological factor in there, too. This little fellow's hungry." 

Jake didn't like the abrupt change of subject. Atticus glared at him with filmy, watery eyes. 

"It's nothing pesonal, you understand," Torrent said. "Well, actually, it's everything personal. You don't want to be here, and I don't want you here with your odd manner. I'm sure Asmodeus will be a little miffed with me, but that's the way the weasel pops." 

The water dragon threw Atticus at Jake. Atticus twisted in midair, landed on his paws, and speared himself at the human. Jake , who was disarmed sometime earlier by Asmodeus' Mechadrakes, dissapointed his instincts when his hand fell on vacant lightdagger sheaths. His frantic thoughts collided in a tangled wreck, jumbled up his signals, and, for the first time in his life, the young warrior lost his footing and took a tumble on the slimy rocks on the bank of the river. A tusk the size of a pocketknife carved a "U" shaped slash on Jake's belly and a smashed snout immediately burrowed in the wound to feed. The repast was short; Jake grabbed Atticus by the rolls of melted skin bunched around his neck and ripped the infant Mechadrake off his stomach. Squealing, Atticus was hurled against the flat-faced rocks and kicked violently in his side when he struggled to get up. The wretched creature's flank scraped raw against the concrete before he came to a stop directly underneath Torrent. Torrent looked at Atticus, who mewed pitifully. The adult Mechadrake shrugged, scooped up the juvenile, and bounded out sight, leaving Jake to pant like a thirsty fox. 

The front of his garb was sopping and sticky with blood, but the wound, while ragged and certain to scar, didn't appear too serious. Certainly nothing worth dying over. 

_Then why did Torrent leave me here?_

A low-key, evil burning began to heat up Jake's slashed belly. Slowly, like a towel sopping up a spill, the burning spread from his belly and seeped outwards to consume whatever nerves it could gnaw. And it brought Jake his answer. 

* * *

Caillou blinked. "So my father is--" 

"Hush, boy." Nyte struck a match, touched it to the end of a cigarette and shook it out. "You shouldn't stop a story right at its climax. Lord, no wonder Asmodeus makes you wear that band. With the way you're always flapping your mouth at the most crucial times, there's no way you'd make any woman happy." Nytetrayn bumped the ashes off his cigarette with an expert flick of his pointer-claw. "Yeah, you've probably realized who Jake is. But that doesn't give you the right to interrupt me. He has a background worthy of a campfire circle, so shut up and learn your ass some culture. Now where was I ... " 

"Jake got poisoned or something." 

Nyte brightened. "Ah, that's right. See, our very own Atticus took a chomp from Jake's belly, and -- " the coal Mechadrake bit off his sentence. "Uh ... Caillou. I just remembered. Try to stand up." 

"I can't," Caillou said instantly. 

Nyte grinned, his cigarette poking out of his clenched teeth like a dowel in a vice. "We forgot about that injured leg of yours, didn't we? You've been sitting too long. How badly is it locked up?" 

Caillou grimaced. "I don't think I feel like any more stories for now." 

"No problem," Nyte said, untucking Caillou's rigid leg from under him. "We'll get this thawed out and you can go to bed. I'll finish the story some other time. That's the neat thing about stories ... they keep well." 

* * *

It was over. Tess sank back in her drenched pillow, her breath sawing in and out of her tormented lungs. "Well?" she exhaled. "Is it a boy or a girl?" 

"No," Genesis said. 

"It's a boy," Zero said above the baby's keen wail. "Kind of a placid little fellow, too. Guess he takes after his father, thank God for small favours." Zero knew Josh, who was away on a long scouting trip, would be happy to hear it. "I'll send word to Cain tommorow. I'm sure even that jerk'll give Josh leave to come see his son." He wrapped the pink, wrinkled creature in a soft yellow blanket. "What's this thing's name, anyway?" 

Tess didn't pause. "Milton John Garret." 

"That's the stupidest name I've ever heard!" Genesis fired. "And I've visited Canada!" 

"Oh sure, listen to Mr. Profound here," Tess snorted. "I'll just bet you're the only reploid in the world with an original name like 'Genesis.'" 

"Hey now ... " Genesis looked stung. 

Zero was stuck holding the baby, who squirmed with hunger. Zero instinctively gave the boy his finger, which was accepted with relish. Some ancient memory from a life beyond ticked into his heart, and he smiled before he could stop himself. 

"'Paul," Genesis said suddenly in a warm voice. "That's a wonderful name." 

Zero surfaced. "Huh?" 

"'Paul.' That's what you just said, didn't you? I agree, it'd be nice to name a new life in his memory." 

Tess smiled. "I like that." 

Zero shrugged, but his smile resurfaced and he said nothing. 

* * *

Iris kept clear during the majority of the birth. Genesis found enough little trinkets to keep her busy and out of the way. But now that the chaos was over and Zero was gone, she severed her tether and wandered freely around the Medical Unit again. 

She found that she kept returning to Tess' stable. She kept peeking around the curtain to watch the new mother as she fawned over her baby. Iris felt a fascination, a longing, every time she saw the two together. And she couldn't shake the feeling that _she_ was being watched by a foreign pair of eyes somewhere in the pit of her stomach, like an alligator peering up at a storm drain from the warm bile of the sewers. 


	12. Young Vectors

**TRIP THROUGH YOUR WIRES**  
**Chapter 12: Young Vectors**

Zero was unable to find Monroe Cain. 

"Monroe's gone for a day or two," Hawkmoon told the Hunter as she seated herself at the leathery perch of Cain without a second thought. "You'd think they'd design chairs for those of us with tails," she murmured. "Long live P.C." 

"I understand," Zero said. "Being a full-time ijit probably keeps him on the road." 

"A full time what?" 

"Oh, uh, 'ijit' is a term of respect meaning 'leader' or 'boss.' Lifesaver uses it all the time in conjunction with Monroe." 

"Hm, he'll be happy to hear that," Hawkmoon said. "I'll be sure to let Monroe know what Lifesaver thinks of him. Why do you want to see him, anyway?" 

"Tess' baby was born," Zero explained. "Her husband, Josh, is out on a scouting mission, and I was hoping he could get leave to see them for a little bit." 

"Lovely, lovely. The baby's fine? No ... er ... irregularites?" 

"Nothing apparent." 

A fresh breath of air billowed into the office's open window with a flowery sigh. The curtains fed on the pleasant summer air until their bellies swelled. The feather in Hawkmoon's hair bowed, and the mechadrake tasted Zero's sad longing. 

"'Ijit.' a wanker," she grinned. "And wanker: noun. One who wanks. I know you don't like Monroe much, Zero. And you've got a headful of worries. So I'm going to give Josh permission to come home. And you're the one I'm sending to retrieve him. You need the vacation." 

"Really?" 

"Sure, why not. Cass has likewise been on edge since Monroe arrived. Have him shut down the tavern for a day or two and go with you." 

A grin seeped over Zero's furrowed features. "Hey ... thanks, Hawkmoon." 

The silver mechadrake swept it all away with her hand. "No trouble. Now that there are no city-wide massacres anymore, maybe we can focus on getting the birthrate up again, and expanding the city limits. I think we're going to witness a rebirth of humanity." Hawkmoon 's last sentence faded in the prime of its life. Zero waited for her to finish, but she merely sat and wrinkled her snout. Zero blinked. 

The eclipse passed. "You still here, Zero? I thought I told you to get lost." 

_Damn these creepy lizards. I hate them all. Even the nice ones._ Zero took his leave. 

* * *

Zero arrived at _Salamandastron's Illusion_ just as its burly owner chased out the last sod. The Hunter was properly awed; he'd never seen Cass in full battle dress before. As the badger locked up his bar, the innumerable other keys on his ring dangled and clanked against a silver wrist-cuff which had a mate on his other arm. The bartender's breastplate was polished to a mirror shine and was either very well kept, or just hadn't witnessed many battles. A mammoth mace was strapped to Cass' striped back. 

"Monkey-damned noisy armour," Cass growled as he fumbled with key after key. Locking up the bar was not something he did with any regularity. "Up 'till now, I always ran around in the nude. What do you think of that, eh?" He bunched up the keys in his balled fist and punched Zero in the shoulder. 

"Naked badgers are the best kind of badgers." 

"You got that right." 

* * *

Jackal's head popped up from behind the belly of a sick Ride Chaser when Zero and Cass walked into the Hunter-Dispatch area. "Oh, it's you guys. What is it?" 

"We're taking off on a mission that's none of your business," Zero said as he threw his leg over the saddle of his Adion class Chaser, _War-dog_. Cass had no Ride Chaser appointed to him, but he eyed Jackal's baby, _Lady Macbeth_ with amiably. Jackal positively flew from his repair job and draped himself over his Chaser, growling. 

Cass knew when he was on to a good thing. "I think I'll use that Chaser." 

"No you won't." Jackal's eyes were bits of brimstone. "This is mine. No one else is allowed to use it." 

Cass flexed his thick fingers and smiled cheerily but said nothing more. He opted for an unnamed, clattering Cheval class Chaser to escort him out the open garage door and into the Grasslands, where the warrior experienced an afternoon of choking on Zero's wake. 

The white memory of Cass' happy smile chewed on Jackal's stomach for the rest of the day. 

* * *

The Grassland nightimes were unchanging, a chunk of near-barren wasteland smothered with darkness. A bonfire flickered on its black pelt, dancing to spite its surroundings and stirring up memories in the souls of the Hunters ringed around it. 

"Nice night," one Hunter drawled, his eyes lost in another world. 

The others lifted their noses to the moon and answered the leader with affirmative grunts. 

Josh Garret started to bawl, tears sliding down his sunburned, shadowed cheeks. Three drained whiskey bottles rattled as he shifted his knees. 

"Aw, listen to him go off again," Cass said. "Now what's your problem?" 

"It's so beautiful," Josh sobbed wetly as he wiped his runny nose on his cuff, leaving a trail of mucous. "There's a little boy back in that city with my name." 

Cass spit out a mist of beer and the foul-smelling stuff drained from his chops as shook with laughter. "Oh God, for a recorder. 'I'm a father now, boo hoo!'" 

"Go easy on Josh," Zero grinned, dragging lines into the dirt with a stick. "He's all saturated. But he's entitled to it. It's not every day the Screaming Queen of the World and the Lane Beyond gives birth to a child you fathered." 

"Dun' talk that way 'bout my dawg," Josh mumbled through a mouthful of hardbread and alcohol. 

Cass shook his head. "Oh, you sick, sick person." 

* * *

When Josh woke up, the demons of Hell were hosting the World Cup Finals in his head and his mouth tasted like a sewer. Grunting, the Hunter shuffled a little ways away from his snoozing fellows. Zero and Cass, who'd offered to keep sentry, talked in low voices and elbowed each other in the ribs, giggling as Josh peed for weeks against a stunted bush. 

A bit of the sun began to bleach the eastern sky. "We'll get going soon," Zero told Cass as he watched the ascent. "I've got a lot of work back at HQ, unfortunately." 

Cass wasn't paying attention. "What's up with Josh?" 

The young Hunter was staring off into the west like a cat watching a mouse. Or rather, a mouse watching a cat. A cat that suddenly pounced into the fray. 

Josh howled a warning and ripped his lightsabre into battle. His Hunters, actual credits to their founding organization, responded immediately and were on their feet and at their weapons in various states of undress. 

The intruders bounded into the camp like a hellbent herd of stags and ripped into the circle of fighters. Zero recieved a faceful of one of the snarling strangers, a gaunt male with eyes that looked like mudpuddles stomped in wet turf. A barbed rope hissed and snared Zero's arm before he could properly react, and a ripping jolt of electricity immediately woke him up. The jolt didn't do any immediately serious harm, and Zero wondered what kind of state the world was in when assasins couldn't properly kill their targets. His fighting blood, cold from inactivity, warmed up as he yanked on the whip, which was still in the hand of his assailant. To the Hunter's surprise, the attacker kept his head and let go of his weapon at a crucial moment. Zero, poisoned by the previous zap and a little off balance as a result, stumbled. His hunter pounced, splayed and feral like a gremlin, brandishing a dagger tipped with a wicked metal that dyed itself in the colours of the sunrise. Zero had never seen the likes of such a metal, and he didn't care for the way it jabbed and ripped through his armour like paper machee. He bucked, and the dagger-wielder flew off him, landing lightly on his feet. He was fast, but Zero was a luge. His lightsabre was evicted in a mouse's heartbeat and cleaved through the young hunter's arm in half that time. 

And the stump belched blood, _red_ blood, _human_ blood. 

Even better, the downsized warrior still flew at him after allowing himself to balk for a nanosecond at the sight of his arm, which ended in a bloody gnaw below his elbow. But the young man's charge was bloodless, probably for obvious reasons, and Zero was easily able to grasp him firmly by his shoulders and force him to the ground. 

The camp, drenched in shades of blood and dawn, was quiet. The intruders were all dead; Zero's boy was the only survivour. Josh was fine, but most of his Hunters were hurting. 

"No casualties. Wouldn't have been so if we hadn't been here," Cass grunted, shivering. His eyes were cloudy and sluggish. "Josh has some of the best Night Vipers in his crew, but holy ghost, what the hell _was_ that all about? Those were _humans,_ Zero. I smelled it right offhand, and you probably did, too. I had my doubts, given the way they moved like monkeys. But then I smashed one right in 'er skull, and she bled 'er life away in technicolour." 

Zero's quarry stirred at his feet, and the reploid slammed his foot down, hard, on his bruised back. The boy swallowed a pain-rattled moan, and Zero was impressed. "Josh," he called to the Viper, "are your men okay? Can you handle them?" 

"No one's in any immediate danger," Josh said, limping among his ranks, "but some of them should be stableized a bit more before travelling home." 

"That's a bit of a risk," Cass pointed out. "We don't know what we're up against here, or why those dancing savages attacked us in the first place." 

"We should be all right for a little while." Zero rolled the survivour over, who'd long since given up maintaining his rigid stance on pain and allowed himself to pass out. 

* * *

Wooziness constricted Blake's head as soon as the sunlight poured into his eyes. He tried to shake it off, but the coils tightened in an unnatural way. 

"Yeah, you've been drugged, so don't bother asking," said the red reploid he'd attacked earlier. The automation sat nearby, cross-legged and using Blake's captive dagger to shave a curved splinter of animal bone to a fine point. 

Blake tried to talk, but his words poured out in a slur. 

"You'll have plenty of time to talk later," the reploid said, heating up the smoothed bone in a small fire that popped beside him. "I'm going to waste my time fixing you up best as I can and letting you rest. Then you can answer some questions, because I'm _very_ curious. Especially about this dagger, which is morbidly familiar." 

Blake's words turned to sand in his throat. The reploid tossed him a canteen, which bonked him on the head and bounced a taunting few inches out of range. Blake's mouth burned, his glands pumped nothing but salt, but the ground was a storm and wouldn't let him reach the canteen. He slowly withdrew his hand and merely lay still, staring at the yawning sky that slowly roasted him. 

The reploid sighed and swung to his feet. He retrieved the canteen, uncorked it and handed it to the prisoner, who guzzled down half the water in one breath and threw it all up. 

"Smart. Try again, slowly this time." 

Blake sipped again with more desireable results, but his thirst ran deep and couldn't be slaked. He felt incredibly drained, an ill feeling that probably had a great deal to do with missing the latter half of his left arm. A bloody bandage made out of someone's spare shirt was all that kept Blake from splashing the rest of his life in the dust. 

"This is going to be rough," said the reploid, who now sat at Blake's left side. "My name's Zero, by the way. And given the materials I have, I don't know how successful I'm going to be at stitching a wound like _that_ closed. At least you've stopped gushing, but one wrong twist could set you off again. And I don't intend to let you die that easily." Zero held up a shimmering strand of gold. "See this here? My own hair, thank you very much." He picked up the bone needle he'd smoothed earlier, removed Blake's bandage, and got to work. 

Zero chattered away while sewing the meat back together, his fingers limbering up as they recalled their old work from years ago in the Medical Unit of MHHQ. His homemade tools held well and he said so. Blake's head turned away from Zero, and he didn't respond except for a feathery flinch every time the hunter poked at him with the needle. Zero didn't prod the boy too much, and assumed he was merely sulking ... an attitude that could be soaked up quickly by unpleasant means that he wasn't strong enough to endure. Yet. 

But Blake was merely confused. Something was amiss. His platoon hadn't gone scouting with the intent of being seen, but they'd still packed the proper weapons in case of discovery. And they attacked thusly. And they were overpowered. Blake closed his eyes, spent. The needle continued to bite and drag its web, weaved by a red reploid who was far too jovial. Something had gone wrong. Maybe his weapons were defective? Or maybe this was exactly why he was bred as a scouter and not a warrior. 

"Hullo, what's this?" Zero tickled Blake's ankle with the tip of his new dagger and pulled up the muddy pantleg bottom a bit. "Odd tattoo you got there, boy. Doesn't look anything like a kid'd get out of his own will. Want to talk to me yet?" 

"No..." Blake's throat felt like it was lined with gravel. 

"You will. When we get back to MHHQ, you and I are going to have a _big_ talk. There, all finished. I'm pretty sure the wound's infected. You've got a fever that's creeping up slowly. But it's not too urgent yet." Zero doused a fresh shirt with some leftover brandy and slapped it on the wound. Blake's eyes opened wide and floated like saucers on his thin face. The hunter touched Blake's neck, read his pulse and slowly helped him sit up next to the small fire he'd made earlier. The boy got a good look around the camp. 

"You tried, I'll give you that," Zero said as he draped a blanket over Blake's shoulders. "But as you can see, everyone's pretty much okay now. Here, drink this." He put a cup of broth in the fighter's hand. "We're going back in an hour, and you're going to need some strength." 

Indeed, all the humans seemed fine. A few of the more desperately injured lay on mats, but were lucid. Most of the camp's residents were packing rolled bundles onto Ride Chasers. 

And moving sluggishly amongst them was a huge reploid badger in battle armour. A reploid who shivered with chills and rubbed his failing joints when he thought no one was looking. 

Blake watched and smiled, reassured. He suddenly felt good enough to take in a little broth. 

* * *

Celeste picked up Paul, and the newborn gazed back at her with his father's eyes, his father's face and his father's manner. 

"Uh, wow Tess. He looks just like you." 

"Of course he does." 

"How do you feel?" 

Tess shrugged. "Pretty okay. A little tired. I'm supposed to move off-base now, but Genesis says there's no rush, and he's letting me stay here for a while longer to make sure Paul's healthy." she took her son back from her friend. "I'm not about to oblige Moron-oe by skipping out the door, either. Look at all the rugrats running around in this place. One more won't kill anyone, especially during peace time. Besides, I -- Mother of God, Iris! Where did _you_ come from? Don't scare me like that." 

Celeste, for all her sensitivity, hadn't seen the female reploid materialize at Tess' bedside. She hadn't even heard her. The former Repliforce agent moved like a snow leopard, soft footed with hungry eyes, which she turned down to Paul who snoozed by his mother. 

"Oh Tess ... you're so lucky! Can I hold him?" 

Tess, who'd seen more than one object fumble through Iris' hands and spill to the floor said "No, Iris." 

The reploid's pretty face fell. "Why not?" 

"What does it matter? I said no. Anyway, he's sleeping. Maybe later." 

Iris' eyes never wavered from Paul. She made a desperate, thin noise through her clenched teeth, like a caged animal, and her arms suddenly shot out. 

Celeste knocked them away, hard. "Iris! What's the matter with you? This is _not_ your baby and you should get down on your two knees and thank God for that because if it _was_ your baby, it would've wasted away in a matter of hours. Zombie reploids from beyond the grave do _not_ make good mothers. Now get out before I call Genesis." 

Iris stumbled backwards, her face numb and shattered. It was a terrible, heart-twisting mess to look at, and the reploid mercifully masked it with her hands before she fled. 

A curtain of silence dropped over the Huntresses. Finally, Tess opened her mouth and let loose a bray of laughter that woke Paul up. "Oh Jeez, Celeste! What happened? You finally got some guts in your belly and a mouth in your head to spit them up through. You little cur. I salute you." 

Celeste managed a smile, but Iris' broken face was frozen in her brain and watered down her triumph. "I ... didn't mean to be so harsh, honestly." 

"Pah." Tess rocked the fretting Paul with one hand and waved with her other. "She needed it. That little meter-maid's been watching me a lot, and it's starting to give me the creeps. You're a great oul' bundle of Irish flesh, Celeste. A great judge of character. Keep some of that fire. You'll need it someday." 

* * *

The lawn of dust muffled Phoenix's footsteps, which thumped like a heavy tomtom beat in the main hall. In a storybook universe, the haunting bass would've been sufficient encouragement for the spirits of the slain Mavericks to swoop down and re-animate their ghoulish remains; but instead they remained cold and dead at the firebird's talons. Phoenix threw back her wings, gulped a great breath and opened her throat. 

"WHERE IS THE PRESENCE OF OVERDRIVE OSTRICH?" 

The hot blast struck every chilled corner of the fortress, and the Mavericks felt their backs pickle. 

Wheel Gator, ever-helpful, braved his mistress. "He's ... gone, Miss Phoenix. We've searched everywhere." 

Phoenix raised a hand with intent on bringing it down hard, but she shifted gears and merely pat Gator on his sleek head. "Oh, he's gone alright. I could've told you that much. I want to know _where._ I don't care so much for that vomit-coloured doiley duster as I do for what he took with him. Overdrive took the journal, Gator. What d'you think of that?" 

"Bad, Miss. Very bad." 

The remaining Mavericks answered Phoenix's summons and collected around her. Flame Stag. Violen. Neon Tiger. All sneezing and covered with mould. They were trying, trying so hard. Trying for her. 

"What's the news?" 

Violen rubbed his smashed nose with the back of his fist. "Dug up some more Maverick bits," he snuffled. "Not enough to revive one whole Maverick ... except ... " 

"For?" 

Neon Tiger scratched his back. "Miss ... we've found Vile's body. Intact." 

* * *

By the time Josh's scouts returned to the Hunter Dispatch area, Cass was beyond disguising his sickness. Zero would've insisted that the badger abandon his Ride Chaser and pair up with someone if Cass were actually petite enough to share a vehicle. But the party got home safely, even if Cass' Cheval lurched like a thing gone rabid. Jackal gave the feral bartender a long stare as he weaved into the garage and parked the Chaser in the middle of the gangway, moaning with his head pressed against the handlebars. 

"Gads, Cass," Zero said in alarm. "Get to Lifesaver. Now." 

Cass lolled his head and spilled off his bike. Panting, he staggered over to Jackal and brought himself eye to eye with the young human, who seemed very sad about his back being up against the wall. 

"I was all ready," Cass panted every word. "I was all ready. See that hobo over there?" Cass motioned to the human prisoner linked to Zero. "I was going to take that scum, see, and force him to piss on _Lady Macbeth_ like. 'There,' I'd say. 'Now you're riding with hobo-musk for the rest of your life.' And then I was gonna laugh. But now I feel like my insides are being cooled with diseased bogwater, and I'm not in the mood for a good joke. So I'll settle for this." Cass thumped Jackal upside the head and staggered on his way to Lifesaver, escorted by a couple of Josh's men. 

Zero shot daggers at Blake. "He seemed to get sick after you circus sideshows attacked us." He shook the spidery boy, hard. "You wouldn't know anything about this, would you?" 

Blake smiled, lighting the dim with a string of perfect white teeth. "All I know is, I can't wait to hear your explaination on why you aren't affected by the same virus." 


	13. Leaving Home

**Chapter 13: Leaving Home**

Torrent Leviathan snoozed. 

Overdrive Ostrich sat cross-legged and nervously squeezed his linked feathery fingers. He looked down and shifted them around. He made a butterfly. Then a church. 

Ange sat quietly on the lip of the trio's sewer edge and slowly drew a broken-toothed comb through her tattered hair. Her hands were tipped with long, dirty yellow fingernails that were chewed at the ends. During her brief hours of sanity, Ange tried to keep herself as well groomed as possible. But those stints didn't last long; and when the battered woman's hand started to tremble furiously, both she and Overdrive knew Mr. Hyde was knocking around in her head. 

Ange watched her shaking hand for a minute, then squared her shoulders. "If there was truly a merciful God looking down at our sorry lives," she said to Overdrive in a neutral tone, "I'd be dead now." 

The large bird shrugged. He was secretly troubled; he rather enjoyed Ange's company, human though she was. Her marbles rolled further away with every passing day, and for longer periods. Her hair was tacky with filth, her face was smeared with dirt, her clothes were a disgrace, and she did not seem to be in the best of health. 

But if what Torrent told him was correct, Ange would very soon be able to control her fits almost completely; and when that day came, she would be sent to Maverick Hunter Headquarters. And he would be left alone in the stinking bowels of this tomb with Torrent Leviathan, whom Overdrive was quickly realizing to be quite unstable... 

Ange couldn't fight the transformation anymore than she could fight the need to breathe. Overdrive watched as it occoured seamlessly and silently; in a minute, Ange had her knobby back to him, and was watching the watery ichor for the chance of a fish, snarling quietly. The switch seemed to be a lot smoother than her earlier experiences. 

"Happy fishing," Overdrive muttered, shifting his fingers again to form a crocodile's maw. The silence was immense. 

"Things will get moving soon, friend," Torrent Leviathan said sleepily, regarding his deciple with half-closed eyes. 

"Yeee," Overdrive said involuntarily, startled at the serpent's sudden hail. 

"Very soon." Torrent looked beyond Overdrive. "And no man can say how it will end." 

Ange lost interest in fishing and lay down for a nap instead. 

* * *

Dawn peeked above the horizon and licked the east side of MHHQ. Zero, who was catnapping on the floor of Lifesaver's lab, woke up with his instincts ablaze. Something was missing. Something was wrong. 

_Cass._

Cass was silent. 

Zero sprang to his feet and skidded over to the huge badger's cot. Relief washed over the Hunter. 

"He's quite alive," Lifesaver said, stepping up next to Zero. Zero's teeth automatically started to grind at the sound of his voice, but eased when he observed how tired the normally stoic medic was. 

Lifesaver apparently didn't believe in hiding his ailments when someone noticed them. "Yes, I'm tired. I was up all night with the big fellow. But I'm sure your memory doesn't need to be refreshed." 

"It was a pretty miserable night, wasn't it?" 

"The miserableist." 

"Is that a word?" 

"It is now." 

They grinned in spite of each other. Cass rolled and grunted in his sleep. The sound was like a small thunderstorm. Zero pat his friend on the head. One of Cass' eyes inched open, but the sleepy film on his eyeball didn't clear up before he closed it again. 

"So Cass will be okay?" 

"In a few days, he'll be quite fine. But he'll be sluggish; his systems were way out of whack, and still are. It's a funny virus he contracted. It's not necessarily aiming to shut him down or turn him Maverick. It's..." Livesaver slowly closed his mouth and his brow creased. "It's...well, you might say that Cass has the flu." 

Zero echoed, "The flu?" 

"Sure. That's the best way I can explain it. It's a virus and it's making him miserable and cranky and sore. For a while, it even looked dangerous until his systems started to fight it off. Now it won't kill him by any means, but it'll gum up his inner works for a little while." 

"Can you work on a vaccine?" 

"I might. I probably won't. I'm calling this virus the flu for another specific reason; it shifts. I could make a vaccine easily enough, but what's the point? If the nature of this bug is what I think it is, it'll mutate shortly and require another shot. I'll wait to see if any other reploids contract it somehow, and go from there. But for now, rest is the answer." 

"Those weapons..." Zero murmured. 

Lifesaver looked up. "Hm?" 

"Cass got sick shortly after those humans attacked us. Maybe their weapons were purposely infected with whatever-it-is?" 

The medic shrugged. "I guess it's possible. But you got attacked, didn't you? Wouldn't you be sick as well?" 

Zero lifted his hands and let them fall limply to his sides. 

Lifesaver stared. "I'll take a look at the weapons," he said slowly. "And I'll let you know. But tell me something, what's the full story behind that ambush?" 

"I told you everything. A pack of humans attacked us. Why, I don't know. But they fought like wild dogs. Lucky we had Cass. His weight counts for something." 

Lifesaver tucked his right elbow in his left hand and dug his fist into his cheek. "Humans attacking reploids. Never heard of anything like that." 

"Maybe they were rabid." 

"Zero, this is a problem. You reported it to Monroe, I hope." 

"Josh was the mission leader," Zero said. "He did. If Monroe wants to speak to me, he can propell his whey-fed rear off his chair and find me." 

Lifesaver shook his head. 

Zero read the message. "It doesn't matter. I'm going to talk to the survivour of the band later today to get some answers. 

* * *

"Ugh." Blake opened his eyes which were hit with a flat, grey wall. There were no windows, but he was certain the morning was upon him. And his throbbing head guaranteed it was going to be a firey one. 

The sound of sliding bolts tacked Blake's ears and drove spears of sound directly into his brain. The door opposite his metal cot opened, and the light that flowed in was a potent dose of pain. 

Something with pointy ears was silhouetted against the shaft. "Good morning!" 

Blake moaned and clutched his head. The pointy eared thing was a fox -- a reploid -- and he stepped further into the room. 

"Yeah, you're not feeling well," the fox said. "When we put you out to fix up your arm, I used an anesthetic with an ether base. Ether anesthetics have sort of been illegal for well over a century, but oops. It also loves to bash heads, and I figured it at least keep you quiet for a while longer." 

Blake strained away as the fox reached over and touched his face. "At any rate, your fever's down. You're going to be quite all right." 

Another pointy shadow appeared in the doorway. The fox turned to look at it, turned back to Blake, and shrugged. 

"Well ... you have a chance at getting well, I mean. But I think Zero here wants to have some words with you." he melted into the background and flicked the room's light on before closing the door with a very final bang. 

Zero stepped into the foreground, in Genesis' place. "First things are first. What's your name?" 

Blake made no effort to open his mouth. 

Zero said, "Well, I gave you a chance to do things the easy way. If you don't want to coopoerate, we can do it my way." 

Blake narrowed his eyes against the light, the pain, and the red reploid staring down at him like a bunny on a lab table. "What's 'your' way?" 

"I'll say this much. It works. And it doesn't leave marks." 

"I didn't know Hunters took a fancy to torturing torn up prisoners." 

Zero ignored the boy's last statement. "Just give me your name, and we'll work from there." 

"Blake," the young prisoner said, closing his eyes. "My name's Blake. And you tore off my bloody arm." 

"I did," Zero agreed as amiably as a man recieving a bet payoff. "And you attacked our Hunters without provokation." 

Blake's eyes flew open and dialated. "You were on our property." 

Zero seemed genuinely interested. "Oh, were we now?" 

Blake shut his mouth with an audiable snap. 

"Said too much, eh? I figure you have a story to tell. The tattoo on your ankle, this dagger--" Zero brandished the strange weapon, "--and your weird attack which left a good friend of mine very sick. Would you like to share?" 

Blake frowned at the world and the compromising position it'd bent him over in. 

"Remember. No marks. And I won't let you die." 

"Damn you anyway. We all have those daggers." 

"'All?'" 

Blake shifted on his pillow. "Eden. Inheritors of, I mean." 

Zero immediately smashed his hands together beside Blake's tender ear and Blake's world was doused in red pain. 

"Cryptic drop-offs are unwelcome." 

"Don't _do_ that." 

"Then start from the top." 

The light buzzed, going about its business as the interrigation loped on below. Blake sighed in defeat. 

"I already told you that my name is Blake. I'm a third-generation scout for the Inheritors of Eden." He stopped, waiting for Zero's outburst. None came, and he continued. "The Inheritors are humans who're bred to fight." 

"I'm sorry to inform you that you stink at fighting," Zero said. 

"I'm not a warrior. Just a scout." 

"Go on." 

"That's all there is to it," Blake said quietly. 

"No it isn't. What's with the dagger? The virus? And the tattoo on your ankle? Most importantly, what are the Inheritors supposed to fight _against?_" 

Blake turned away. His tone didn't change. "That's all there is to it." 

The light continued to buzz, uninterested. 

Zero shook his head. "I warned you." He reached for the boy. 

"Zero." 

The Hunter's hand faltered, and he turned around. Jody from the Night Vipers stood in the open doorway with his hands folded behind his back. "Zero. Monroe would like to see you." 

"That's nice, but I'm busy right now. I--" Zero dropped off when he noticed the bed was trembling. Blake was shaking like a leaf in a monsoon, but the shadow of the reploid's threatening hand didn't seem to be the source of his chill. The scout was looking _beyond_ Zero to Jody, who stood quietly in the doorway, his back to the light and saddled in its dusty leather vest. The young Hunter didn't look in Blake's direction but he said, "Monroe needs you immediately, _sir._ Seven is here to escort you." 

To Zero, the only thing worse than taking orders from a subordinate was having another subordinate take him by the hand to make sure he carried out those orders. Next would be the juice box and the nap. And sure enough, Jody stepped aside to reveal good old Seven the panther, who leaned on his mighty axe with one paw cocked on his hip. Zero brushed past Jody and Seven, giving the latter a discreet kick to the blade of his weapon and lopsiding his James Dean pose. He glanced behind, and saw that Jody hadn't moved out of the room. 

"Aren't you coming?" Zero said warily. 

"No sir. I've been given permission by Monroe to ask our guest a few questions." 

The reploid's temper mounted like War on its red horse. "You can't--! I was in the middle of--!" 

"Oh, I don't know about all that," Jody said mildly. "Did you have orders from Monroe himself? Permission, even?" 

"Well, no--" 

"Then good day, sir." Jody turned, shut the door behind him, and the last Zero saw of Blake was his terrified mouth open in a frozen scream. Zero slammed his hands on the cool metal and uttered a curse, but it was absorbed by the door. 

"Let's go now sir," Seven said in a bored voice. The rest of the ward was almost empty, and Genesis was noticibly absent. 

"Where's Genesis?" Zero barked. 

Seven shuffled and waved a paw. "Oh, busy I imagine. Helping Lifesaver. Maybe. I don't friggin' know." 

The cat was listless, extremely so. Zero's Urge to Throttle faded at the sight of the mangy beast. In fact, he almost felt sorry for him. 

"Seven, is anything the matter?" 

"What could possibly be the matter?" 

When Zero didn't press, Seven mumbled, "Who could possibly resent being replaced like a horse with a broken leg? It's Thrillsville, I'll tell you what." 

"What do you mean?" 

Seven responded with some jumble about mechadrakes and blew through his nose. He said nothing more until he pushed open the oak door to Monroe's affluent office with one paw and gestured to Zero with the other. He bowed, and Zero could taste sarcasm. 

"Come now, Commander Zero. The son of Cain requests an exchange of words." 

* * *

While Zero and Blake were taking tea, Celeste McTreggor drummed the eraser end of her pencil on a blank sheet of paper. Her creased brow rested in her hand. 

Genesis entered her room. "Finished?" 

"I haven't started." 

"Well, what's bothering you?" 

"I'm not much of a writer," Celeste admitted. 

"It's okay," Genesis said. "I'm not much of a psychologist. But if we humour each other, magic will happen." 

The Huntress spun her chair around. "Pouring out my 'fears and anxieties' onto a piece of paper isn't grand therapy." 

"What do you want for free treatment?" 

"I'm not in a writing mood anyway." Celeste twirled the gnawed pencil between her thumb and forefinger. "I had a strange dream last night." 

Genesis sat on her bed and raised his hands to the sky. "Ye Gods! And the sun rose this morning! If the world continues this strange chain of events, there will be naked panic in the streets." 

"Stop being an ass, Genesis." 

The reploid fox chuckled shortly. "Sorry. Do you want to tell me about the dream?" 

"Well," Celeste said, distractedly doodling on her empty sheet of paper, "I can't even say it was too strange, because it made perfect sense. The strange part was, it didn't feel like my mind had any say in it. It was like someone was ... well, telling a story to someone else and I was like a kid leaning over the railing, listening in. But the person telling the story knew I was there and they _wanted_ me to hear." 

"Uh huh. What else?" 

"It was a story, I guess, about my father. But I felt like I walked into the middle of a movie that'd already been through an intermission and I missed the first act." Celeste stared at her doodle and noticed that she'd unwittingly drawn a pretty good likeness of a mechadrake while speaking. 

"Tell me what you remember," Genesis said. 

"It started off like this..." 

* * *

_I'm dying,_ Jake McTreggor realized. 

His slashed belly burned, low and urgent. His arms tingled, bloodless. His body felt like someone touched a match to his nerve endings and was waiting to watch him explode like a firecracker. 

The river roared on behind him, uncaring. How long had it been since Torrent Leviathan and the little Atticus 15 had left him here to die, mortally poisoned? Minutes? Hours? Days? Did it matter? The whole world was sick and yellow. 

Jake managed to wrestle out of his issue black leather vest. He rested for a minute and tried to stagger to his feet but his joints felt like they were packed with warm sponges. Jake fell over and knocked his hip on an outcrop of rock. The sound was like a shotgun. He didn't care. 

He gasped his vest with one hand and half crawled, half dragged his battered bulk until he nestled himself in some reeds and low bushes a little way down the faux river bank. It was secluded and soft. A good place to die in. Jake dropped on his back, and being allowed to halt his tortured joints was heaven. 

"Cold," he said out loud to no one. He stared up at his green canopy. Through the leaves he saw bits of Eden's Great Tree spiral above him forever and branch off into countless rooms and warrens. His only child was somewhere, anywhere in this infinity. His brain tripped over that one thought over and over again, but no motivation could get his body to pull together, stand up, and start searching. 

"Rest first," He murmured in another mind. "Need to sleep." 

Jake closed his eyes. 

* * *

Blackavar 126 leaned over the railing and pointed a claw. "There!" 

Ange Spar stepped out of her room and onto the catwalk while tying her dark, oily hair into a ponytail. "Shhh, not so loud," she shushed her black mechadrake. "It's the quiet hour. We shouldn't be up." 

"I saw something move in the lagoon." 

Ange stepped up beside Blackavar and peered into the depths below. At the very bottom of the Great Tree was the lagoon, where the river and water source for Eden ran among rock and foliage. Ange's room was quite near the top of the Tree, and the distance and soft, muted light that accompanied the quiet hour didn't make it easy for her to see what Blackavar was so excited about. 

"Whatever it was, it just moved into the clump of trees over to the right," the mechadrake broadcasted while hopping up onto the railing as easily as a canary on a perch. 

Ange finished tying up her hair and she smoothed her jumpsuit with her tan-coloured hands. "Well, you're not going to get any sleep, and if you're agitated, so am I. Are you sure there's something down there worth staying up over?" 

"There's definately something out of the ordinary down there," Blackavar said. "And I smell blood." 

Ange gave an instinctive sniff, not really expecting to catch wind of anything. "This whole place smells of old blood." 

"It's fresh blood. I'm going down there." 

"Fine," Ange gave in. "Pick me up on the way." 

Blackavar leaped from the railing, swept his wings back and scooped up his girl before dropping into a spiral towards the lagoon. 

* * *

"Hey, you there." 

Jake turned his head and refused to open his eyes, because he knew that when he opened them, he'd be staring at the ghost of his daughter. 

"I'm sorry, so sorry for leaving you," Jake tried to wail but something warm bubbled up from his throat and he spat the foul out like a dragon. He tasted blood. 

"Easy." Something damp touched his cracked lips. "What unit do you belong to? What happened?" 

"Torrent took you away because you were dying, I did my best, I did my best..." 

"He's not well, Ange." 

"No wonder he's raving. Look at his wound." 

Jake rolled his head and heard the grass crunch under him. "Get away from me Asmodeus, get away from me. Give me back Celeste, I'm going to let her die in peace, die in my arms." 

"What did he say about Asmodeus 12?" The voice was lizardlike, sharp. Someone caught him under the arms, and Jake opened his eyes, snarling. He'd face the ghost of Celeste if he could have one more chance at Asmodeus, Torrent, any of them. 

A small black mechadrake squat at the edge of the river and looked at Jake warily. It made no move to fight him. 

"Are you all right?" Jake thought the mechadrake asked the question, but the words didn't match the creature's eyes. Someone else asked it, a woman at his side with tanned skin. 

"Tell him to fight me," Jake rasped. "Tell him to give her back." 

The woman tilted her head. "Who, Blackavar? He won't hurt you. Can you drink? I don't know what this cup was doing by the river, but it's a stroke of luck." She held the cracked container up to Jake's mouth. The smell and sight of the water and the memory of Torrent turned Jake's stomach green. He thrashed. "God, no. Get it away." 

"Blackavar, what should we do?" 

"Lawks, I don't know. Is he from Eden, or is he an outsider that stumbled in?" 

"He must be from here. He's got the black vest, so I guess he's in the Diamondback Unit." 

The mechadrake rose to his feet in one smooth motion. "He must've had an accident. I'll fetch some help." 

"No ... don't do that," the girl said, projecting Jake's frantic thoughts. 

"Hm?" Blackavar turned around. 

"He's ... I don't know." She laid a hand on Jake's stomach, and his skin shivered underneath it like a horse in a mosquito cloud. "I don't think we were supposed to find him like this." 

"You mean he's in trouble. He was left to die." 

"Maybe," the girl said slowly. She looked at the mechadrake. The mechadrake looked at Jake. Jake's chest rose and fell rapidly and bile burned in his throat. 

No questions needed to be asked. 


	14. Pets

**Chapter 14: Pets**

"Mark my words now. This is trouble." 

Blackavar 126 sailed easily over the railing of the catwalk and landed with a steely thump. In his arms, Jake McTreggor groaned as he was jostled about. 

"Crybaby." The mechadrake ducked his sinuous neck and entered a small, plain room hewn out of the rock wall of the Great Tree. A crude bed was pushed up against the left wall, and an unfinished wooden table stood in the middle of the small living space. 

Blackavar set Jake on the bed. "Don't go wandering," he said cheerfully and ducked out the door again. 

Pain rolled stormily over Jake. He screwed his eyes shut and breathed sharply through clenched teeth. He wished the numbness would come back. 

"It's a good sign that you're feeling some pain," contradicted a voice from the doorway. It was the dark girl again and Blackavar was a sillhouette behind her. "But try to keep quiet. My name is Ange, and this is my room. I don't think I'm supposed to be keeping stowaways, but I couldn't just leave you. At the very least, I want to give you a soft place to die in if that's the route you're planning to sail." 

"Celeste ... where is ... she?" 

"Who?" 

Hot irons stabbed Jake's belly and took him away. "Your mama's gone little one, she left us here ... but you just concentrate on feeling better ... Gah." He flopped on his side and wet dribbled from his mouth onto Ange's sheet. 

"Gah," Blackavar echoed. "There's probably rules against keeping pet crazies. You should tell Asmodeus about this and get it done with." 

"Can't we do something for him? He's in a lot of pain." 

"You're looking a little uncomfortable yourself," Blackavar said. 

"It's nothing." 

The mechadrake rubbed his gold throat. "Well, Eamon 57 is in charge of pharmacutical for the next couple of days. He should still be on duty, and he owes me a favour. I'll see what I can scrounge." 

Ange took her friend's paw and smiled. "Thanks, Blackavar." 

The mechadrake bowed elegantly. "I hate seeing you unhappy." He left the room and the swoop of wings carried in the soft silence of Eden. 

"Cold," Jake warbled from his feverish sleep. 

"Poor fellow," Ange said, walking over to her patient. "I wish you could understand me." 

The world stopped clocking in slow motion for a brief moment and a recollection of some events broke the surface of Jake's brain. He returned the stare of his caregiver. 

" ... Who are you?" 

"My name's Ange Spar," She repeated patiently. "Can you talk to me now?" 

"Is Celeste here?" 

"No, I don't know who she is." 

"She's my daughter." 

"That's lovely," said Ange. "What's your name, and what happened to you?" 

"I'm Jake. I came here with Celeste, and..." Jake closed his mouth akwardly. 

"I understand," Ange said. "You don't have any reason to trust me just yet. Knowing when to keep your mouth shut is an admirable trait, but don't let it run away with you. I have a feeling fate is going to make friends out of us." 

"Impossible. I'm scheduled to die." 

Ange laughed shortly and trailed off when she looked at Jake's expression. "...Oh. You're serious." 

"Huh." 

"You're lucid right now, and your wound isn't bleeding. What's the problem?" 

Jake grimaced in recollection. "Poison." 

"From?" 

"Bit. By a baby mechadrake." 

Ange looked confused. "Bit by a baby ... what? Only children are allowed near the Tubes when they Call. That's how I found Blackavar. And anyway, no baby drake is poisonous." 

Fog stole over Jake again and he arched his soaked neck. "Bronze." 

"Bronze," Ange repeated slowly. "Bron -- wait a second. You got bit by Atticus 15?" 

Jake panted and the world spun its head again with him on top. 

Ange's eyes grew wide as she added up her sums. "Atticus 15. The sole bronze mechadrake in Eden. Being cared for by ... you've got Torrent Leviathan on your bad side?" 

Her guest hacked out in the affirmative. 

"Blackavar was right. I'm in over my head." Ange glanced at the open door of her warren twice while speaking. 

Jake's black bangs were plastered to his flushed forehead. But his eyes were mild. "When I'm done here, just drop my bloated corpse where Torrent can find it. That'll keep you safe enough." 

"Damn it, are you being sarcastic? I can't even tell." 

Jake didn't respond. 

"Blackavar," Ange said to her mechadrake as he swooped back onto the catwalk, "This guy is poisoned." 

"You couldn't tell?" 

"Did you get anything to help him?" 

The drake held a small felt bag in one paw. "All I could get was some medicine to make him a little more comfortable. I told Eamon that you pulled a muscle badly while doing your training, but I didn't know how to explain wanting antitoxins." 

"You couldn't think of any kind of story?" Ange said in distress before remembering that black mechadrakes weren't especially logical or imaginative. 

"No and yes," Blackavar replied. "I didn't try too hard, if I'm to be very honest, because this man doesn't belong here. If he's discovered, you're in a lot of trouble. You'll fall out of Asmodeus 12's favour. He values you as a fighter, but he's very keen on discipline and making examples." 

"Torrent Leviathan is after him." 

"Wonderful! You proved my point. It's not too late to turn him in." 

Ange turned her head slowly from Blackavar and looked at Jake, unconscious. She flicked her eyes up at her fighting medals, lined up on the wall beside her bed like a row of stoic soldiers. Finally she sighed, a long, lonely sound and heavy. She started for her door, moving nothing like a Warrior of Eden and more like an old woman. 

"Where are you going?" Blackavar said sharply. 

"To see Eamon." 

"What will you tell him? He'll want to know why you need antitoxins." 

"I'll think of something." Ange slipped on her vest. 

The black mechadrake's lip curled just enough to reveal the tip of his upper left fang. "Why are you doing this?" He asked his girl. 

She motioned to Jake. "I don't think he was being sarcastic." 

* * *

"Zero, Zero, Zero," Monroe greeted the Hunter from the safety of his desk. The silver mechadrake Hawkmoon stood beside the son of Cain. 

Zero looked up, down, all around the posh office except at Monroe himself. "Hi." 

"My friend Hawkmoon tells me that two days ago, you left MHHQ to bring back Division 12 of the Night Vipers Unit -- the Hunters I sent out scouting." 

"Yes. The Division's leader, Josh Garret, has a newborn son. I figured Josh would like to see him at least once before you send him on one too many useless scouting missions and he shrivels into a ball and dies." 

Monroe raised one finger. "Ah, but apparently the last scouting mission _wasn't_ useless." 

Zero was silent. Monroe had him there. 

"Zero, why don't you tell me what happened?" 

The Hunter glowered. "Didn't you already talk to Josh?" 

"Yes, but I'd like to hear the event as told by your well-excercised mouth." 

"There's not much to say. We were all acting like perfect gentlemen when all of a sudden a band of humans attacked at dawn. From the north. Josh saw more than I, honestly. We fought, and there was only one survivour. He's in the Medical Unit --" 

"So you admit it," Monroe cut him off. 

Zero stopped abruptly, accidently biting his tongue. His irritation grew. "Admit what?" 

"That you killed those humans." 

The Hunter immediately spot the roller coaster to Hell that Monroe was beckoning for him to board. And he'd be next in the qeue if he wasn't extremely careful. "Sir, we attacked out of self defence." 

"Against some humans with a fistful of toothpicks?" 

Zero placed his knuckles on Monroe's desk and leaned forward slowly. "If you mean those _daggers,_ no. Those are _not_ toothpicks. They're something much worse. The human who stuck me ripped through my armour like it was paper." 

"And?" 

" 'And' your grandmother! Those daggers are also viral! Surely you heard what happened to Cass." 

"I have, and I've been wondering why you're showing no signs of sickness." 

"I, ah ... " Zero stumbled and fought a crazy urge to tell Monroe he owed his health to vitamins. 

Monroe linked his fingers together and rested his chin on the bridge. "Has anyone ever run a full diagnostic on you, Zero? I'm sure we'd find something interesting." 

"Sir, we have more urgent issues on hand--" 

"We certainly do," Monroe agreed. "Like determining what to do with a reploid who kills humans." 

Zero gaped, and Hawkmoon shook her thin, sightless head. 

"The Night Vipers had a reason to attack. Daggers and humans don't mix well. Cass' judgement was likely clouded almost immediately upon being infected. Lifesaver tells me he'll make a full recovery, which puts to rest any fears of him being Maverick." Monroe looked directly at Zero. "But you? Killing a bunch of practically unarmed humans?" 

"The daggers. They had the virus--" 

"--which didn't infect you," Monroe finished. "In fact, you look very bright eyed and bushy haired today." 

Zero was on the roller coaster, and it was inching away from the platform. "But sir, I think it's vital we know more _about_ the humans who attacked us, and _why._ I was questioning the survivour -- Blake -- but Jody interrupted to tell me to see you." 

"Yes, the reason for the attack will recieve our immediate attention," Monroe said in a bored voice. "But there's no reason for you to be a part of the investigation. In light of your recent actions, I'm temporarily relieving you of your--" 

"Don't," Hawkmoon said in a low voice. 

Monroe looked at her sharply. "What?" 

Hawkmoon could evidently feel the pinch of her friend's eyes. "Don't. Suspend him, I mean." 

"Wh--" 

"You go to far, Monroe. We need him. He says their lives were in danger, and I believe him." 

The head of MHHQ's mouth was a thin, white line. "Very well," he said shortly. "But Zero, I'm still running a complete diagnosis on you. There's something ... not quite right about your look, your moves ... " 

"Your scent," Hawkmoon mumbled almost unintelligably, drooping her head. "The blood of children ... " 

"Now's not the time for your verbal diarrhea, Hawkmoon," Monroe snapped. "Zero, I'm watching you. This is your last chance. You can easily be replaced, you know." 

Rage bloomed in Zero with a furious blossom Monroe's last words, and the look in his eyes must surely have been death because Monroe flinched ... almost cringed. But the son of Cain gathered himself up and called over Zero's shoulder. "Lifesaver? You can come in now." 

The medic entered, stood beside Zero and squared himself. 

"Lifesaver. I want a diagnostic done on Zero. Thorough. Leave no chip unturned." 

Zero saw Lifesaver smile a bit, likely at his boss' dumb cliche. "Yes sir." 

"Seems the snow-white fighter for great justice is immune to the virus that attacked Cass. I want to know why. Were those daggers indeed infected?" 

"Yes sir. They were implanted with what I'm currently calling the Flu. Highly infectious when transferred through the circulatory fluids. Chance of infection is 97%." 

Monroe bunched his hands together and tapped his index fingers. "Flu. Um, okay. When can you begin the examination, Lifesaver? Tomorrow?" 

"No," the sturdy reploid said, giving Zero a sidelong glance. "I have a backed up schedule, and the degree of testing you want me to do will take a few days for setup alone." 

Monroe frowned. "Oh, will it now." 

"Yes. MHHQ could use some more up to date lab equipment." Lifesaver didn't hide his thin smile. 

"Well, how much time do you need?" 

"Two weeks." 

"Two w--!" Monroe sputtered. 

"Best I can do." 

"Urgh. Fine. All of you are dismissed. Remember what I said, Zero." 

Outside in the hallway, panic gnawed Zero's brain. He had a death sentence hanging over him. The words "complete diagnostic" were far more fearful than any others in Zero's life, including "boiling lava" and "rabid Mavericks with accordians." He'd never _had_ a complete diagnostic before and he knew that one now would indeed reveal some interesting things about his makeup, most of which started with the letter "W". 

And what would that bring? 

Under Cain Senior, Zero had been subjected to typical virus scans but no one ever forced him to get a complete diagnostic because you couldn't force a 400 lb gorilla onto a lab table. But now, with his leadership on the line ... 

"A rock and a hard place, eh?" Lifesaver said with his back turned to the Hunter. He started to walk away. "I bought you a little time. Use your leisure days creatively." 

Zero's head felt like it was filling with oatmeal. 

Many miles away, something crawled to the surface of a dark Scottish loch... 

* * *

"Blake's _dead!_" Genesis spit out in a near-scream. 

The entire Medical Unit halted at the distress of its leader. 

"Blake's dead! Who the hell was watching him when I was gone? I'm going to break faces once I have names." 

The fox's lead assistant, Pip, approached his boss, who stood in the door of Blake's cell. A very obvious death smell wafted from the room and the little reploid stopped just short of Genesis' reach. "Mr Genesis ... I saw Jody enter the room some time ago, but as far as I know Blake was alive after that." 

"Who the F is Jody?" Genesis snarled, then changed sails. "Oh, who cares. The boy commited suicide. I doubt anyone could've stopped him." 

Pip's eyes grew wide. 

"That's right. Ripped his stitches out, bled to death." 

"Yeeee..." 

"Damn straight," Genesis puffed. "I hope Zero got everything he needed out of the lad." 

"I don't know about that," Pip said. "Jody came in here with orders from Monroe to question Blake. Zero left in a huff." 

Genesis threw his arms up. "Oh, I don't friggin' care. He wasn't _my_ pet human." 

"Zero insists that Blake is a part of something large. Very large." 

"Was," Genesis corrected Pip before a metallic crash made him swerve his head towards the ward's main entrance. Jackal, the human in charge of the HQ's garage and its vehicles, ran into the room in distress. He gave Genesis one stricken glance before turning to a nearby bed and smoothing ou the sheets. 

"Here, Bottle. Put her here." 

Bottle, a little greasemonkey reploid, rushed in behind his friend carrying something very big and shaggy in his arms. He dropped the bundle on the bed Jackal indicated and fur and blood flew all over the white sheets. 

Genesis smacked the sides of his head with his balled-up fists. "Oh _Gawd!_" 

"Can you help her, Genesis?" 

"Am I your personal vet now, here to cure the ills of your housepets?" 

"It's not a dog," Jackal said. "It's a wolf. I found her about half a mile from the garage when I was taking out some Chevals for a test run. Her front paw is hurt badly." 

"From dreams to suicides to injured wolves," Genesis grumbled. "I wonder what the next hour will bring." The medic took a length of thick cord from a drawer and tied the unconscious wolf's tapered muzzle. "Well. Let's see what we're dealing with." 

Jackal smiled. "Thanks Genesis." 

"Why couldn't have Zero stumbled on this wretched creature?" Genesis said. "He would've just killed it or ignored it, and save me the trouble of bandaging up some mongrel's paw. Better yet if Hawkmoon found him. Maybe she would've eaten him." But the fox's hand moved softly over the wolf's paw, searching. "What an odd wound." 

Jackal strained to see. "What?" 

"The paw is broken, I think. No, more like dislocated. Like it got caught between something narrow and she pulled to get free." 

"A branch, maybe?" 

"I don't think so. More like ... " Genesis paused. "A sewer grate." 

"The wolf is from the city?" Bottle said at the Medic's elbow. 

"Nah, it's a silly thought," Genesis said as he wrapped up the break. "I'm just making a comparison. Who knows what got her. But she should be all right with some time. And she's not staying in here. Cain wouldn't let you keep her anyway." 

Jackal frowned. "I can't just put her back on the Plains with a break." 

"Sure you can. Animals adapt. They're not like humans who cry over a pain in their toe." 

The mechanic became quiet as he pet the wolf's matted brown mane and tattered ears. Her powerful leg muscles twitched as she slept blackly. 

"I'm going to keep her in the garage." 

Genesis had his back turned and was washing some insturments. "Sure you are." 

"I'm going to keep the garage door open. If she wants to leave, she'll leave. If she stays, she'll stay." 

"Yes. A giant carnivore in MHHQ. Cain will throw a party over _that_ one." 

"Monroe never comes into the garage anyway. He's afraid of the soot." 

"Well then," Genesis said. "You're welcome to do as you wish, Jackal. But don't be surprised if she turns feral. Or rabid. God help you then. I don't know how healthy a wolf from the Skeleton Grasslands is in the first place. Then again, Nature has to get off her matronly butt sooner or later and bring some restoration to this ugly ball of dust. Maybe you'll luck out." 

At a nod from Jackal, Bottle gathered up the wolf once more and hoised her with little effort. Genesis knew an animal lover when he saw one. Jackal had a new friend. 


	15. If I Catch You, I Will Kill You

"...So - then," Moira said while hitching up her pants, "I told him he'd better get his bloody circus act together unless he wants to sleep under the porch with the dogs. And he's all like, 'Whatever.' Can you believe that? Men are pigs." 

"Isn't that just the way?" June's shirt eclipsed her voice as she pulled it on. 

The Huntresses' gossip rang clear off the red-bricked walls of MHHQ's spacious changeroom. It was a warm place, heated with steam from the shower stalls, smelling of talcum powder, hairspray, and a faint glow of perspiration. Wooden honey-coloured benches ran along the walls. They were moderately old, like MHHQ itself, and a scroll of history was scratched into its surface with nail clippers, files, and hunting knives: _Jaina was here_, _This hook reserved by Red Draco,_, _Tess + Josh_. 

"Man, my back hurts," Moira mumbled while she leaned into the mirror above her cubby and applied some eyeshadow. "I don't know why." 

June nodded and pulled up her socks. "I know what you mean. I've had a headache for two days now." 

"I don't know what's up with me. My body's up to all sorts of mischief lately. And Cain's prodigy isn't making our lives easier. That's the problem with America today, June. People pass off their empires to their children, who grew up wanting for nothing, and have no idea how to run a business or interact with their employees. The money starts to burn." 

"Isn't that just the way?" 

"You bet. If I were in charge, I'd -- Jeez, what's that smell? Are the sewers backing up in the washroom again? Someone'd better call maintenance." Moira turned around and shut her mouth and her compact simultaneously. 

Standing in between the huntress and June was another Huntress, one Moira had never seen before. She was a medium-sized woman, and very skinny, although she had the profile of one whose sharp corners would be rounded out nicely with a few good meals. Her hair was in need of a wash, and her skin tone was brown. _Pale brown,_ Moira thought. _Somehow, it looks wrong. Like she spent too much time out of the sun..._

The woman's clothes were nondescript, but she had a Hunter training jumpsuit draped over two stickbug arms. She smiled faintly, and her eyes were black blanks. Moira watched as June bobbed her head and swayed behind the stranger, checking her out like a cat examining its reflection. 

"Hello there," Moira said slowly. 

"Hi." The stranger's voice was shy, barely above a whisper. 

"What's your name, dear?" 

The woman opened her mouth and started to say something. Then a confused look came to her for a second and cleared, like a bird's flight shadowing the sun for an instant. "Jackdaw. My name's Jackdaw," she said with firm confidence. 

"Uh ... huh." Moira and June caught each other out of the corner of their eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Jackdaw. I'm Moira. That's June, behind you." 

"Where's the shower?" Jackdaw's voice wasn't unfriendly, but she was obviously uninterested. 

"Good idea," Moira said a little more loudly than she meant to. She jerked her thumb behind her. "Beside the washroom. Go ahead and get changed. Here, you can leave your clothes beside my hook, if you like. No one will take them. What Unit are you in, anyway?" 

"None," Jackdaw said, putting her folded training uniform beside Moira's belongings. "I just enlisted, but I need to pass the physical and evaluation before it's decided if they want to keep me or not." 

"Oh yeah." Moira's memory refreshed and she thought about her own evaluation. "It's not so bad. Good luck with it all." 

Something seemed to shadow Jackdaw's mood again, for she became sombre and said nothing. 

Moira turned back to June. "Anyway, as I was saying. I don't respect anyone who hasn't started from the bottom and worked their way up." The Huntress turned to glance at Jackdaw as she talked. "Otherwise, they have no idea what it's like to ... um ... well, start from the bottom and ... er ... respect. I have no respect ... " 

Moira trailed off completely, but it made no difference because June wasn't listening and Moira, for once, lost intrest in hearing herself talk. 

Jackdaw was undressed, and she was hideous. Scars laced her thin body. Her skin was tight over her sharp bones. A dirty tensor bandage encircled her left ankle. She looked like a wasteland, Moira thought, although wastelands didn't tend to need mowing. Moira had never seen so much _hair_ one one woman's legs and back ... 

Jackdaw turned her head and caught the two Huntresses staring, but she didn't appear disturbed. She pointed at a bottle of shaving lotion and a fresh disposable razor in the threshold of Moira's cubby. "May I?" 

Moving in a dream, Moira wordlessly handed over the articles. 

"Thanks. I packed in a hurry, you see. Didn't have time to grab much. I'll return these." 

"Oh, no no," Moira said in a hushed voice, wagging her open hands back and forth. "Keep them." 

Jackdaw took a towel from the dispenser and wrapped it over her shoulders like a cloak before heading to the showers. She walked with a limp. 

"Man," June said as soon as the humid hiss of the shower was loud enough to cover her voice. "What's _her_ problem?" 

Moira was speechless for the second time that day, and in her life. 

* * *

Iris swayed slightly as she churned her mop across the floor of the infirmary. Her eyes, as usual, seemed lost in another dimension, but they were open nonetheless. And her ears were sharp. 

"Well, she's healthy. And capable." 

The reploid's slow dance with the mop led her to an occupied stable. The canvas curtains were drawn, but a small crack was present where the two screens were supposed to meet in the left hand corner. Voices filtered through and Iris stopped and glanced through the slit just in time to watch a woman sit up on the table behind the curtains. The woman, young and thin, appeared to have a dark complexion, although the light in the area was tricky so Iris thought she could be mistaken. She was dressed in a blue medical gown and her black hair had an eerie, alien sheen, soaked in the neon glow of the monitors that jumped and beeped beside her. Lifesaver and Genesis were also present, talking about the woman as if she was livestock. But the woman didn't object. 

"I don't know Genesis," Lifesaver said slowly, studying one monitor covered with scrolling jargon. "I don't think I've seen so many chemical imbalances in a human before." 

Genesis' teeth gleamed in the lesser darkness. "Eh, what do you know from humans?" 

"Damn it Genesis, don't call me in here for a second opinion and then piss all over it! If you want her to pass her physical, just slap your filthy pawprint on the sheepskin and leave me alone. But I'm just telling you, it's not normal for a human to produce these readings." 

"You're useless, Lifesaver." Genesis snuffed, automatically pulling the woman back up into a sitting position when she tried to recline on her elbows. "There's nothing wrong with these readings. Go back to your pots and pans and little tin soldiers." 

The woman remained silent during the argument, and she saw Iris staring at her through the slit. Iris' heart jumped when those glittering black eyes fixed on her; she knew she wasn't supposed to eavesdrop on the exams or disturb the patients, and now she was caught. 

But the human didn't holler for Genesis. She merely smiled at the young reploid. That one gesture opened something up in Iris, and it was powerful, choking. She fled from the stable, overwhelmed, and slid nicely on the wet floor she'd forgotten about. Annoyed, she recouperated from her start to ponder over events. 

That woman ... _smiled_ at her. A genuine smile. 

No one smiled at her. She was unstable, useless, in the way, one useless half of a strong whole. Surely there'd been a mistake. 

Yes, it was a mistake. That was it. Iris fell back to her mopping, but she found she couldn't stop the corners of her own mouth from turning up, reaching for her eyes. 

She was suddenly jostled roughly from one side, almost pushed over, and the shock ripped away her warm aura. Jackal rushed by. 

"Genesis!" The human's runners were frictionless on Iris' wet floor, and he slid. "Dammit, stupid floor. Genesis!" 

The fox pushed aside the curtain enough to get through. He looked at the heaving human and crossed his arms over his chest. "Jackal, I'm in the middle of something. What is it you want?" 

"Do you have any idea where Supertramp is?" Jackal asked in a desperate voice. 

Genesis stabbed his pointed muzzle at the mechanic and curled his lip. "Super-_what?_" 

"The wolf! The wolf you helped me heal, remember?" 

"Am I your wolf's keeper? I told you she'd probably return to the grasslands. She was a wild animal, and I must've been on drugs when I didn't report you for keeping her in the first place." 

Jackal drooped his head and pushed his hands behind his neck. "Agh ... " 

"Anyway," Genesis said, pulling out a "Caution" pylon from behind the curtain and tossing it on the wet floor, "I would probably run away too if I had to live in a smelly garage with a name like that. 'Supertramp.' Jeebus Crow." 

Jackal hunched his shoulders and started to walk away. Iris watched him for a few seconds, and went back to work. 

"Don't be sad." 

Iris and Jackal looked up. 

"Jackal. Don't be sad." It was the woman, still sitting up on the bed behind Genesis, who craned his neck back at her in surprise. Her voice was soft, childlike, and fit well with the dim darkness that surrounded her. "Nothing you love is lost. Everything returns home eventually, to those who care for them." 

Iris couldn't see Lifesaver from where she stood, but she heard him say, "Are you _sure_ you want her to be a Hunter, Genesis?" 

"Jackdaw, stop acting weird," Genesis said slowly, and the woman shut up at once. The fox then turned to glare at Iris and Jackal. "Iris, get back to work. Jackal, no, I haven't seen your bloody dog and if she _does_ come back, keep her out of the Medical Unit or I'll shoot her. I've got more important things to attend to right now." Genesis yanked the curtains shut again . 

Jackal shuffled towards the door, but he stopped long enough to kick the side of a file cabinet. The metallic "Twonk!" that resulted emulated a gong, and Iris jumped back just in time. Genesis came galloping out of his stable in a roaring rage. He flew at Jackal, seized the young man, smashed his head into the offended cabinet (producing a much meatier "TWANK!") and threw him out the door in the space of two seconds. Seething and crackling, the fox returned to Lifesaver and Jackdaw. 

Iris hardly noticed. Some afterglow from Jackdaw's smile and gentle voice returned and clung to her, and a little of her old confidence started to bloom again, warmed by it. She put away her pail and mop, opened the file cabient and started to sift through an unorganized pile of papers on Genesis' desk. 

* * *

_A long time ago, a boy died in a war and was reunited with his brother. The boy was made of machines, so he was never sure if he _was_ living an afterlife or if he was just wallowing through an illusion conjoured up by his malfunctioning body and mind. _

Nevertheless, the reunion was bittersweet and either minutes or centuries later, the two were walking side by side through a peaceful park. They stopped by a small pond and watched some coi dart through the clear water. The boy's brother turned to him, his black-and-gold armour shining in the sun, his sharp canines flashing ask he spoke. 

"We were built by the same hands," he said, "but we're different. You didn't follow the path Wily laid out for you and that disappoints me. But you did defy your destiny, and I respect that, believe me. So I hope you'll take what I'm going to say to you seriously." 

The boy responded voicelessly. 

"Despite my respect," his brother said, "I hate the fact you've fallen in love with a human. Celeste, you said her name is? Well, your love for each other is an abomination, and that's not the worst of it. I don't care what happens to her, but I do care what happens to you." 

The boy frowned, and his brother held up a hand. 

"Easy. Hear me out. Do you recall the time your girl was infected with the virus that drove her temporarily insane? You had to physically subdue her. You hurt her while doing so, and you secretly enjoyed her pain. You drew it up like a thirsty kid drinking cold milk from a straw. Your thoughts and intentions were dark, evil. For a minute, I thought we were going to win you back." 

The boy remembered, and looked swiftly away. The memory stung, and yet... 

"That's the thing. You'd do it again, and derive the same pleasure. You've still got a great deal of blackness in your soul. You can wash some of it away, but there's a nasty stain that will always be there. I like that. But if I didn't love you,_ I wouldn't be giving you this warning." _

The boy was forced to look at the pond by his brother's hand under his chin. The black robot pointed to the water. The coi were dead, bobbing along the pond's surface, mouths open in frozen gasps. A cold wind sprang up and the pond became choppy and evil-smelling. 

"Stay away from Celeste. Your passions will kill her." 

Something moved in the pond, and the boy dropped to his hands and knees. He saw himself in the water, not as a translucent reflection, but as an opaque picture, like a movie on a screen. He was dressed in his battle armour, and he couldn't see his face, but his fists were clenched, his head was raised, and he appeared to be howling. In the vision, Celeste ran up to him -- how small she seemed next to him! -- and placed a hand on his elbow. He jerked away, snarling. He didn't want to be comforted, and when Celeste persisted, he swung his arm and smashed the side of her face. 

The boy tried to cry out when he witnessed the scene, but he was mute. He was not, however, blind; he saw the aftermath of his strike in hellish detail. His "reflection" had blood on his hands, it was spattered across his armour like rat tracks. His chest heaved, and he looked down at Celeste who lay far away from him, as still as a broken doll. Was she dead? What had he done? The grief was immense, poisonous, chronic. But some hidden, starved part of the boy clamored for that blood; he wanted the smell, the taste, he wanted to experience the beautiful climax that inevitably shuddered through his systems when he saw it ... 

"So you see," his brother said, breaking the spell, "why you need to stay away. Like I already said, I don't care what happens to the girl, but I don't want you to suffer, regardless of the path you chose -- or should I say, choose -- in your life. That vision wasn't some tiddly make-believe story to scare you, Zero. It's the future. You carry it through, you'll both end up with broken hearts." His brother smiled in cruel amusement. "Actually, she'll_ end up with a broken everything." _

The boy cried without making a sound. His brother stood up. 

"So now you know what'll happen if you take that human as your wife. You're a lucky boy, little brother. You're going to get a second crack at life, and this time you get an instruction booklet. Words are cheap, however. You'll be tested soon enough, and I'll be interested to see what actions you take." 

Bass vanished in an instant, almost in mid-sentence. The park was gone, drowned by an intense, white light that pressed against Zero's eyes. 

"Zero!" 

The light was removed, but he was too drained to sit up. He turned his head to the side and saw an elderly human, his face one giant smile. Zero's mind felt sticky and sluggish like a chick crawling out of an egg; was he dead? Alive? He couldn't remember the human's name, although facts were rapidly scribbling across his brain like chalk against an empty board. Vile ... he destroyed Vile, and then ... 

Two cool hands grasped his one left, which dangled over the side of the table he lay on. Zero turned his head slowly to the other side and saw her ... 

"I can't believe ... " Celeste's voice couldn't seem to make its way past her quivering mouth. "I can't ..." It quit entirely, but her eyes were intensely blue. They always darkened to that beautiful shade when she was emotional, and Zero was suddenly able to remember the precise moment he fell in love with them, fell in love with her,_ and he almost squeezed her hands in return ... _

Then as sudden and painful as a door shutting on his finger, Zero remembered those eyes, sightless, dead, as she lay on the etheral ground of the vision that Bass presented to him, covered in blood ... 

He withdrew his hand and shifted on his side. "I'm sorry, miss. I don't know you." 

"What--" Celeste started after a stunned silence, but Zero matched her. "I don't know you." 

"Zero?" The elderly human quivered, and Zero recognised him. Dr Cain. But he didn't want to greet him, didn't want to greet anybody. He was nothing but hurt, misfortune, a travelling misery peddlar, and why did they bring him back? "I don't know you either." 

"Zero, don't--" 

"I don't know you." 

"But--!" 

"Please, leave me alone. I don't recognise either of you. 

"You--" 

"Just leave me alone_!"_

The dream broke like someone hit it with a hammer, but Zero's vengeful scream echoed in his mind even while his eyes focused on the glass ceiling of his recharge pod. Iris had her hands splayed out on the glass and was peering in at him. "I have little doubt that your passions will eventually kill her, Zero ... " 

"Huh!" Zero sat up in his pod and tocked his forehead against the door. Iris melted away. 

The Hunter remained where he was, breathing in the poisonous remains of his nightmare. No, not a nightmare. It was a cruel joke, but Zero would have welcomed a nightmare. What he saw in that dream was truth, memories and reminders. 

_"You'll be tested soon enough ... "_

Zero lay back down and threw an arm over his eyes. "No rest for the wicked," he mumbled. 

* * *

_A long time ago, a blue mechadrake suffered a lapse of sanity and left home with his red sister. Or maybe it wasn't a lapse of sanity; it was carelessness. His red sister caught him staring out the window once too often, looking longingly at the sky, and probably marked him an easy target. Blue mechadrakes didn't care much for flying, but this one was different. He wanted to soar to magnificent heights, he wanted to open his wings wide and offer himself up to the sun, he wanted to blot the city with his shadow, he wanted a premature night. He wanted to conquer. _

His sister proposed a journey to Maverick Hunter Headquarters in America. She needed to attend to some business, and she wanted a companion who could handle the journey. The prospect of a long flight thrilled the blue mechadrake, and it was indeed a glorious time. Rolling over maps of forests and plains, cities, towns, wind combing their hair, sun at their backs, silver-white moon on their wings, shadows darting below, consuming the landscape. 

"You've got an obvious, hungry look in your eyes," his red sister warned him one day. "You've got a commanding streak you're hesitant to let anyone see. Maybe someday you'll be a conquerer, but I can tell you that you blues aren't built for that sort of thing. Stay friendly in MHHQ, put violence out of your mind and stick to the simple pleasure of flight." 

And the blue mechadrake had the sense to take his sister's advice and enjoyed himself at MHHQ as the co-leader of the Regal Dragons. He had the company of many friends. However, hunting didn't slake his thirst to rule. He rather liked humans, and wished to rule them in some way. For their benefit. They were such chaotic creatures in need of a shepherd. His sister's advice rewound and played in his head constantly and he took a long flight whenever he felt the urge he couldn't act upon. Flying was pure joy, it was incredible to lift himself off the ground with his own two wings and he never tired of it. 

Then he saw her one day, walking down a hallway at the HQ. She was a mere human female, still blossoming. She was quite short, frail-looking, and one arm was nearly useless and in a sling. But she was terrible. Something urgent was mixed with her scent, and it drilled the blue mechadrake's snout. All he could smell was death on the girl, even as she talked to him in friendly tones about becoming a Maverick Hunter. Some cruel fate automated the blue mechadrake, and he encouraged her to sign up even while his brain gibbered and screamed in fear. Her eyes, look at her eyes, they're old, they don't match her youthful face. Your destinies are entwined like serpents around a ladder, and yours is resting its head on a lower rung, waiting to be bit off by her own. 

Yet, the blue mechadrake knew there was no avoiding fate. All he could do was wait until the girl "accidently" shot him while drowning in the instincts of her ancestors. He lost his wings, he lost his joy, but his will to rule over humans grew fat and darkened with evil intent even as a visor of his own choosing slid over his face, tinting the world in shadow and hiding his new set of humanoid eyes. The girl had destroyed him, but maybe she had helped him realise his true calling as the Maverick leader, Vile. 

Vile ... 

"I will conquer." 

Vile ... 

"Come to me, girl." 

Vile ... 

"If I catch you, I will kill you." 

Vile ... 

"But first I will thank_ you for making me what I am." _

Vile ... 

"You've grown into such a pretty young thing. What a delight it will be to rip_ that vigorous body of yours, to violate you, to break your legs and watch you writhe in agony as your lifeblood weeps onto the cold cement, your spine smashed, destroyed ... "_

"Vile!!" 

Vile jerked to life and opened his eyes. The world was still tinted. A huge bird, her divine, flaming plumage dull behind his visor, hung over his face. "F ... Fuh ... Phoenix?" 

Phoenix tossed her head and the afterimage glowed behind Vile's eyes. "It's about time." 

Vile's dream faded quickly as if someone reached inside his mind and turned a knob. Stinking-fish reality sharpened around his sore head; a dripping, musty wreck of a chamber, a hard table under his back, and a mere packet of second-rate Maverick leftovers: Flame Stag, Neon Tiger, Violen, and ... 

"Did you guys seal Vile up already?" Wheel Gator whimpered from the foot of the table, clutching a bag of peanuts to his barrel-like chest. "I accidently dropped a peanut in there when you were taking a break from working on him, and I was too scared to tell you." 

Vile closed his eyes again. "Jesus Christ, I've died and gone to hell." 


	16. Blue Eyed Boy Meets a Brown Eyed Girl

**Chapter 16: Blue-eyed Boy Meets a Brown-eyed Girl**

It was only the beginning of July, but already the earth smelled like it was weary of summer. The musk of exhausted defeat was particularily strong in MHHQ's back lot, where X and Zero sat in the dusty centre of the empty refugee camp. The sun had just gone down, but darkness had not yet fallen. What light remained was hazy, thick and drenched blue shadows over the grim structures surrounding them. The trampled, shorn grass threw up waves of sour air. The heat was hot, the ground was dry, and the air was full of sound. 

Zero glanced around the shabby huts and lean-tos which housed homeless humans after Maverick attacks during the first War. "I hate this place," he said in disgust. 

"Then why did you come here?" X asked. 

"Bad obsession." 

"Oh?" 

Zero wouldn't answer X directly. "When I arrived at Maverick Hunter Headquarters, it was before Sigma officially smashed his bottle of champagne against the hull of Human Genocide. The Hunters had it easy enough back then, as you probably remember, and the humans stuck here were relatively comfortable and well-behaved. Then when the War started in earnest, the money had to stretch, and we sucked it out of this place. The conditions got bad, and the humans regressed and wallowed in their more basic instincts." 

"Uh huh," X recollected. 

"The Mavericks got more aggresive and destroyed more neighbourhoods. This place got overcrowded. Food got short, and people started to steal from each other. Some fine old fights broke out, as I remember." 

"Hm." 

"Right here. Right in the middle of a thriving city. Right behind the grand old structure of Maverick Hunter Headquarters, we had our own little piece of the Third World. Come one, come all. See the zoo. See the Renaissance fair. We're a little short on the poetry, art, and bold dragon-slaying, but there's plenty of olde-thyme dirt, disease and despair to go around." 

X turned his head at MHHQ. "It was in a bad way around here, back then." 

"I was ashamed of them for it," Zero said, "but now I realise that's what happens to humans. They're animals at their cores, but they're swaddled in layers of civilisation. Hard times hit them, and the easiest way to survive such business is to downgrade. Simplify. Cast off luxuries, cast off society's rules and get used to not having them. The animal is what's left, and animals don't question the cruel world they live in. They stop and think, and someone else grabs their food, their mate, their territory. So they just act. Humans are the same, when the earth calls their blood home." 

"You're grim, Zero." 

"I'm positively chipper. You want to hear grim, you stay beside me for a few more minutes because I'm getting there." 

X didn't answer, but he drew his knees up to his chest. 

Zero waved his hand, sweeping across the refugee camp in a grand arc. "The first Maverick War was by far the most savage. The media called it 'The End of Innocence,' as if we all did nothing but wear daisy-chain crowns and dance around maypoles before Maverick reploids decided to have us for supper. To be perfectly fair, it _was_ the end of innocence in a way; humans thought that free-thinking reploids would wash their dishes and be thankful for the opportunity. Once Sigma rose into power, they knew better. And by the time the second Maverick War broke out, we Hunters were beyond our disbelief, and we cried a little less for our friends when they turned. Maverick disposal became more of a task, less of a matter. Well, I'm not very poetic, I can't word things well. But you know what I mean." 

"You word things very well," X said darkly, closing his eyes. 

"Oh ... " Zero trailed off. "I didn't mean ... " Impatient with X and himself, the crimson Hunter placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Put up with me, X. You lost a lot of friends, and it doesn't get any easier. I lost friends too, but I know it hits closer to home for you." 

"I lost _you._" X's words were as firm and grounded as an old oak tree. "It was hell." 

"X, I -- " 

"Yet I've kept a shred of optimism alive within me, after four Wars. And I try to keep it alive. That's why I still cry hard for every lost life, contrary to your gracious statement." X's voice started to shudder. 

"X--" 

"And I'll keep fighting for humans. They're not just animals, and I don't care what you think. They're our creators, our mentors." 

"Actually, my father was a subhuman madman," Zero said wryly. 

"What?" 

"In due time. We're getting off the subject--" 

"I can't see what you see when I look at the world." 

"X--" 

"It's like ... you're changing." 

"X. Chill." 

The two friends stared at each other, their faces glowing faintly in the purgatorial dimness that reserved itself half an hour just after sunset. 

"Zero--" 

"No. No apologies, X. I'm not going to apologise to you, and I'm not going to let you apologise to me. I brought you here to disturb you with my talk, and I don't owe you an apology for that because you're my best friend and that's the kind of crap you have to put up with. However, you don't have to love me for it. Now, may I finish?" 

X flexed the fingers on his right hand. "You may as well." 

"Well then. Getting back to the pathetic state this camp was in. Sure, lack of money had a good deal to do with it, but I also think that they were kept shabby on purpose." 

"What!" X looked sharply at Zero 

"Becoming a Hunter meant better living conditions," Zero said mildly. "Sure did persuade a few humans to sign up. I mean, why not? It's a sneaky tactic, but who's going to report it in the middle of a desperate war, with a dissolved media that's full of rumours and bad information in the first place? MHHQ had nothing to lose. They grew their Hunters out of a pot of dirt." 

"Oh, Zero." 

" 'Oh Zero' my arse, X. You said you'd let me finish. What I'm trying to get at is, the battle for Goodness is corrupt. That's hardly anything new; it's the way the world has been since we all learned to stab each other with pointy sticks. But circumstance has shoved _me_ in the middle of it all, lately." 

"Your scanning," X said. 

"Yes, Monroe's damnable scan on my systems will take place next week. I mentioned the fight for Goodness being corrupt. Well, I'm bloated with sin, and even though I fight on the right side, I have a feeling that things are going to end in a bad way." 

" 'Bloated with sin.' Is that why you fear the scan?" 

"Yes. I have stories, oh, do I have stories, and it's about time I told you some of them. I owe it to you. I don't want you to hear about my fall from grace after it's been mangled by the rumour mill. But first ... " Zero plucked at his shoulder armour and held his hand flat out at X. It was almost completely dark by now, and the object on Zero's palm absorbed what little light remained, sucked it up and hoarded it, gave nothing back. _Like a dead star,_ Zero thought to himself, looking one last time at the rampant black unicorn on the surface of his offering. 

X's eyes grew wide and he reached out a hand tentatively. "That's ... " 

"My Command badge for the 0 Unit Black Unicorns. Take it." 

X's hand faltered, and he drew it away. "I can't." 

"You can, and you will." Zero jiggled his open hand insistingly. "When everything, well, comes to pass, I'll undoubtedly be stripped of my title. My unit will be given over to Seven, God help this wreck of an organisation, and he'll love that. But he can't get at it if I hand my badge over to you. You hold the badge, X, and you're the Commander. That's the way things work here." 

"What about in the meantime?" 

"I'll still lead the 0 Unit." 

"Without your badge?" 

"Don't ask, don't tell. That policy has got to work for something." 

"What about my Unit? The 17th? What'll happen to it when I take over 0?" 

"Well ... " Zero shrugged. "I don't rightly know. I guess you'll have to cross that bridge yourself when you come to it." 

"Zero!" 

The crimson Hunter held X's glare. "X, if you were ever my friend ... help me with this. Take the badge. It'll be bad enough when I'm sent away from here, but it'll break my heart to see Seven take my place." 

"This is ludacris." X cracked his knuckles. "I can't ... " 

" '...have any part in it.' Did I say that right, X? I'm asking you, and I certainly won't force you. But it sure is easy to turn your back on a comrade when he's on the road to Hell, isn't it?" 

Zero's hand was still outstreched. 

"Zero ... " X lifted and dropped his shoulders, and a massive sigh billowed from his insides. He reached for his friend's hand and took the badge. "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?" 

The moon rose and the camp was doused in pagan fire. Zero turned his eyes up and they, too, burned. "Well. Therein lies a tale." 

* * *

Caillou McTreggor jumped out of the way a split second before the huge training drone he'd dispatched nearly spilled on his head in a heavy heap. The dischord of toppling metal onto the concrete floor jangled through the room. It wasn't a typical training hour, so no one else heard the drone's dying concert except for Nytetrayn, who sat atop a wooden observation shelf six feet off the ground, working on some kind of machinery. The black mechadrake looked up briefly from his handiwork, shook his head, and looked down again. 

Caillou exhaled. "What?" 

"What what? You have little of your father's skill, even less of his grace, but you have all of his bad luck." Nytetrayn continued to pluck at the jumbled mess of metal before him. "More unfortunately, you look like him." 

Caillou glanced at his reflection in the training drone's polished corpse. A smaller, male version of Ange stared back at him, right down to the brown skin colour. Except ... 

"It's your eyes," Nytetrayn said. "They're exclusively Jake's, that lovely dark shade of blue. Given your skin tone, they jump out of your face like two strangers in a strange land and constantly remind Asmodeus of your origin, of Jake himself. He doesn't like that. If you were an exceptional fighter who could bear the next generation of, uh, Edenites into this dank dungeon, Asmodeus probably wouldn't hate you so much. As it is, you're not bad at sparring, but even your successes somehow look like they happen by accident. And you use that pistol to fight. It takes your credibility down a few notches." 

Caillou looked at his weapon. "My Wyvern-Walker? It was a gift to my mother from Jake, wasn't it?" 

Nyte looked up with a dragon-grin. "Sure, he never used it." 

"He didn't?" 

"Oh, he did once, sort of, if the story I've been told is true. I'll relay it to you in a few minutes, if you'll help me test a theory I'm working on." 

"Well," Caillou said as Nytetrayn leaped down from the shelf, his tail grabbing a cylandrical tube from the bench. He transferred the tube to his hand, grabbed Caillou's arm with the other, and thumbed a switch at one end of the cylinder. A cone of light spilled from the other end, pouring directly into Caillou's -- Jake's -- eyes. 

The inside of Caillou's head effectively exploded, or so it felt. The light was acid, sheer pain. The boy howled and jerked away from Nytetrayn, throwing his arms over his face." 

"I thought as much." Nytetrayn sounded pleased. 

"God! You ... I ... I'm blind!" 

"You are not, you big baby. Calm down and take your arms down from your face." 

Caillou did, and the world was an infinate white blank instead of a black one. But the snowfield began to thin a little, and Caillou could see the grey shadow of Nytetrayn moving in it. 

"Don't get mad at me yet," Nyte chuckled. "You've verified something fairly important." 

Caillou rubbed his eyes. Nyte became a faded, oily rainbow of colours. "Why did you do that to me?" 

"Neveryoumind, lad. You'll find out eventually. Remember what I told you earlier, about turning you into Asmodeus and lifting suspicion off myself? If you don't want that to happen, you'll do as your told, and you'll like it. I'm working on a theory that's still exactly that at this moment. I guess I might need to do more testing, somehow, to make sure you're not just a special case. Your father wasn't much one for sunlight either, or so I've been told. He was quite comfortable in the dark ... " 

* * *

_I like it here._

The air was warm, dark. No pain needled Jake, no churning thoughts poisoned his head. All he had to do was tip his weight to his heels, fall back, splash into the blackness, surrender, and he'd never have to deal with Atticus, Torrent, Eden ever again. Release would be easy. 

A horizontal shaft of light slowly oozed from infinity, laying itself down for Torrent Leviathan, who walked towards Jake. He held up one hooked claw. Celeste dangled from it by her shirt collar, like a fish on a line. Except a caught fish struggled. Celeste hung like a dead dog. 

"Well then," Torrent chuckled. "You forfeit." 

Jake roared and flung himself at the mechadrake. Instead of ripping into his nemesis, he bobbed to the surface of his dream and his eyes were assulted by light. A middle-aged human man with a sand-coloured beard and hair held one of Jake's rubbery arms in one hand, and an empty syringe up in the other. 

"So! You're awake." His voice was neutral, despite the happy realisation. "For a minute there, it seemed like you were giving up. But I think the worst of it is behind us. Here, go like this." the man dropped Jake's arm and opened and closed his fist rapidly. Jake slowly raised his arm and closed his fist in a slothful, uncomfortable imitation. 

"Can you talk, fellow?" 

Jake thought that someone must've replaced his jaw with a lead weight, but he focused. "A little. Hurts." 

"Not surprised, but that's good news. The poison paralysed you entirely, but we countered it just before it grabbed your vitals. If you can move some, now, it means that it's starting to leave your body." He disassembled his syringe and discarded the needle with machinelike smoothness, and moved out of Jake's limited radius of sight. "I'll administer another treatment later, but the most important things at this point are some mild excersises and rest, rest, rest. I'll talk to you soon. Have a good night, Blackavar." 

Jake heard the black mechadrake respond, "Good night, Dr. Ison. See you later, Eamon. Thanks for your ... housecall." 

"It wasn't any trouble. Ange, Asmodeus is going to want to talk to you in the morning." Dr. Ison spoke like a man making note of the weather. 

Jake set his elbows on the thin mattress below him and slowly pushed himself up in his bed. Moving wasn't such a wretched business, now. He sat up just in time to watch Dr. Ison leave the room with a blue mechadrake following behind. That's Eamon, Jake supposed. 

And he was still in Ange's warren. His jumpsuit was rolled down to his waist, like a dull green banana peel. His stomach wound was bandaged neatly, and his skin felt very cool above the drab blanket on Ange's bed, bare against the chill air of the room. Blackavar looked at him for a second, then turned his triangular head away, saying nothing. Ange herself was slumped at the table in the middle of the warren, her head in her arms, her body shuddering. Jake's heart squeezed into his throat; she was so desolate. He tried to tell her not to worry, that everything would work out. Blackavar didn't hear Jake's words, and they couldn't get through to Ange. She was too upset. 

"Ange has seen death before." It took Jake a few seconds to realise that Blackavar was talking to him. "She's seen several Warriors of Eden die in training accidents, and she accepted their deaths. Why does she care about you? Why does she risk her rank, her life?" 

Jake looked at the black mechadrake without hostility, but Blackavar's eyes were old, hot cinders. 

"If she suffers, I'll kill you. You'll wish for Atticus' poison to jump back into your veins and carry you off long before I finish with you. Outsider." 

"Do you mechadrakes get high off overdramatics? It must be nice." 

"You want to see overdramatics?" Blackavar snarled, but Jake didn't fan the embers. He sank slowly under the covers once more and lay quietly. Ange pulled her hands down from her face. Some of her colour returned, and she looked better for it. 

Blackavar looked at her. "Ange, are you all right?" 

"I'll be fine," Ange said shortly. She stood up. 

"I told you Eamon would want to know why you needed antitoxins. Even so, neither of us know enough about first aid to have fixed this wretch without Dr. Ison's help." 

"Yes Blackavar, I know." 

"Now Asmodeus 12 will know about this." Blackavar swung his head slowly, like a sad grandfather clock pendulum. "Ange, what have you gotten yourself into? Why did you save him?" 

Ange walked to her warren door and leaned against the jamb with her arms crossed. She stayed still for several minutes. Jake was dissapointed; he liked watching her move. She stepped quickly and gracefully, like a colt. Ange looked at her guest and smiled a little and Jake caught sight of a faint blush dawning across her face just before she broke the line and turned her head away. 

"I don't know why I did it, Blackavar. Seemed like the decent thing to do. Maybe Asmodeus will understand." 

"We'll just see about that." 

* * *

"My jumpsuit is still ripped." 

"I'm afraid you'll have to deal with it, Jake." 

Jake fingered the gash in the green material, which still had dried blood smeared around its lips. His bandaged stomach showed clearly through the rip, and it made him feel somehow exposed and vunerable in the midst of the Great Tree's morning traffic. He still felt quite stiff and weak from Atticus' poison, but some summons couldn't be ignored. 

"You'll be lucky if it's just your jumpsuit that stays ripped once Asmodeus 12 is done with you," Blackavar growled behind him, slapping the back of his head lightly. 

The blow didn't hurt very much, but neither did a glove to the face. "God, I'm tired of you," Jake told the black mechadrake, and slammed his elbow into Blackavar's exposed stomach. The synthetic flesh was far more yielding than Jake expected, and a loud expulsion of air flew out through Blackavar's mouth and snout. 

"Stop it," Ange said. "Asmodeus is below us." 

Indeed, the mottled leader of the Inheritors roosted on the opposite side of the catwalk, some storeys down the slow spiral that hugged the cylandrical wall of the Great Tree. His katana was unsheathed, its wicked point planted firmly in the ground, his hands resting on the hilt like an English gentleman leaning on a cane. Whether by intuition, or just some cruel fate, the shredded silver mechadrake looked up at them as Ange said his name. 

"So, there you are." Asmodeus was across the Tree, which was buzzing with activity, but Jake heard him as if he were standing beside him. "Join me, please. And be quick about it." 

Jake set his teeth, squared his shoulders, and put one foot in front of the other. Whatever happened, the worst part, the anticipation, would end soon, as long as he kept moving towards that hateful, crazed monarch. Time can only go forward,Jake reasoned, and dole out the future, for better or worse. Ange kept step with him and held her head high. Jake stole a glance over his shoulder once, and noticed that Blackavar was nowhere to be seen. 

As Asmodeus' gaunt body grew larger in their eyes and the expression on his face became clearer, Ange stumbled. Jake put an arm around her shoulders to steady her. 

"Don't touch her, Jacob." 

Jake didn't remove his arm until he and Ange stood side by side before Asmodeus. Jake caught sight of something squirming and worrying in the shadow cast by Asmodeus, like a worm in the mud. _Torrent?_ Maybe. The grand scientist seemed downsized somehow, a morsel of a mechadrake. He dropped on all fours and peeked around the ankles of his silver brother, his fangs and eyes glittering as he opened his mouth at Jake in a silent, vengeful hiss. _He's Asmodeus' dog,_ Jake thought, dumbfounded by his own simile. 

"Jacob. " Asmodeus stated. "Dr. Ison paid me a visit this morning. Seems you two know each other." 

"Y-yes." 

"I did not expect Torrent would make an attempt on your life." 

This was not what Jake expected to hear. 

"I did not expect Torrent would make an attempt on your life," Asmodeus repeated, "and I apologise for it. He will be disciplined. It's a lucky thing you were found and healed. Ange?" 

She startled like a swallow. "Sir?" 

"Well done." 

Something seemed to unwind in the marrow of Ange's bones. She relaxed a little. "T-thank you, sir." 

Asmodeus looked at Jake again, his hands still cupped over his katana hilt. "Jacob. I want to talk to you. This is Eden." 

"So I've been told." 

"Yes," Asmodeus said. "So you have. And yet, you're not happy. I don't desire you to be unhappy, and I wish you'd understand that. You fight us every step of the way. You--" 

"I want to see Celeste." 

"--seem to--" Asmodeus stopped. He looked comically flabbergasted, an expression Jake figured he wasn't going to get to see twice. "I'm sorry. What did you say?" 

"Celeste. I want to see her." 

"You mean you _haven't_?" 

Jake rolled his shoulders, which were starting to lock up a little. "Not since I came here." 

"Well, that's just ... " the mechadrake swung his head at his shadow. "Torrent. You haven't let this man see his daughter since he arrived with her?" 

Torrent was standing on his two legs once more, although he slouched some. "No. I suppose I haven't." 

"Why not?" 

"Couldn't be disturbed during her treatment," Torrent said sullenly. 

Asmodeus lifted up his katana and brought the point down again with a firm _clink._ "Well Torrent, that's one more thing you'll have to remedy. Now come here and say your piece." 

Growling softly, Torrent paced up to Jake and stooped eye-to-eye with the young warrior, squinting down his slimy snout. "I'm _ever so sorry_ for trying to poison you out of my life. It was _wrong._ I hope you can _find it in your heart_ to forgive me." 

The sarcasm was fantastic, but Asmodeus nodded his head in satisfaction. "Thank you, Torrent. But you're not done." 

Indeed, for very suddenly, Torrent's hands were full of pointy things. Jake's confiscated lightdaggers. He handed them back to him. "They're your weapons of choice, are they not, Jacob? Since you work best with them, they're yours again." 

Jake ran his fingers lovingly over the weapons' hilts. He stopped himself just in time from saying, "Thank you." 

"Seems almost a shame to give them back to you," Asmodeus said with a cracked smile. "From what little training I've seen you perform with that pistol we issued you, you're a force to be reckoned with long-range." 

"Pistol? The Wyvern-Walker?" 

"Yes. It's a rare cast, you know. We thought you deserved it at the time, but you never seem to use it." 

"I use it," Jake muttered half-heartedly, like a kid being chastised for never playing with some aunt's lame Christmas present. 

"Sure, but you prefer to look your opponent in the eyes. And I admire that." Asmodeus rustled his wings. "Well, it's getting late in the day and we all have things to do. Torrent, take Jacob to see Celeste." 

"Oh, this'll be a lovely outing," Torrent grinned. He mockingly held out his hand to Jake, who stared at it for several seconds before pushing past. 

"You know the way to my lab? Fine, go ahead and take point. See how far you get." 

Jake slammed to a halt and silently let Torrent step in front of him. He recieved a summon and turned around. Ange, heading in the opposite direction, threw a quick good-bye and will we ever meet again? over her shoulder. Jake smiled clumsily. 

Torrent didn't look back. "Enough of that, Jake." He said. "And watch your step. You're cruising for trouble." 


	17. Anchored

**Chapter 17: Anchored**

"Wait here." Torrent pressed his paws against a wall of bedrock. The material was seamless, but the leviaithan vanished as the wall swallowed him in one quick gulp. 

Jake wondered what choice he had. Torrent's "lab" was among the thick foliage at the bottom of the tree. He could hear the hiss of the river quite close by, the banks of which he'd nearly died beside a lifetime ago. Sure, the Inheritors of Eden had their water. Jake idly wondered where their food came from. There were no animals running around the Tree, best as he could tell. And he doubted that their supplies came from the local friendly grocer. It was definately a question worth chewing over, so to speak; Jake _was_ fed well in Eden, although his portions were controlled depending on how many training excercises he participated in. Since he'd done a lot of sulking since arriving, he hadn't eaten a great deal. But when he did, it was a grand experience. Plenty of meat. Wild game, although Jake was sure his taste buds were mistaken. Game was extremely rare on the dinner table; most food was synthetic, and what wasn't was domestically raised. Cows, chickens, the usual. But he'd tasted venison a few times before being trapped by the Inheritors ... before he got married ... during happier days. He recognised it when he tasted it. 

The hidden door shifted again, and Jake tensed up. Torrent alone walked through it. Celeste wasn't with him. For a crazy second, Jake thought that maybe the mechadrake had performed some experiment on his daughter to turn her invisible. 

"Torrent--" 

Torrent raised a bony flipper-hand. "Horses Jake, horses. Hold 'em. You'll see your daughter soon. Maybe. I have a propostion for you. It's about ... making that 'attempt on your life,' as Asmodeus elegantly worded it. Damn lizard has to fatten up every sentence that comes out of his wretched beak. I really _am_ sorry for trying to kill you. No hard feelings, eh?" 

"You poisoned me. It was pretty painful." 

"I imagine it was. So please consider my peace offering." Torrent drew his other hand from behind his back. He pinched a small vial between his thumb and foreclaw. 

Jake cocked his head. "What ... " 

"Don't talk yet. Just think. You were once a wanderer, owing your life to no one, drifting from city to city. Not an honourable lifestyle, some argued, but you didn't care; you were free. Hunting, fishing, performing odd jobs when money was necessary. You were happy. Then you met Silvia. Ah, young lust. She wanted you and she pulled you in neatly. Female creatures have their male counterparts on a leash, Jacob, but you're familiar with that cold hard fact of nature. Next thing you knew, you were up the aisle with your head on backwards. 

"Life became miserable. Your wife was the Queen of the Harpies, and you were merely irresponsible. You couldn't hold down a job. You weren't mature enough to settle down and commit to her." 

" 'It takes a cold bed to prompt lechery,' " Jake murmured. 

"Then Celeste came along," Torrent continued, "and you just about loved her to death. She had your eyes, but what's more, she had your mindspeak; the affliction that makes you feel like an outcast. The reason you seperated yourself from society. Such an affliction upon your defenceless spawn made you feel all the more protective of her, especially since you and I were already aquainted by the means, and you knew what she'd be put through. You stopped drinking and tomcatting. You put on a suit and tie and went to work every day. Working under some brainless schmoe was perfectly bearable as long as you had your daughter to come home to, and who'd begrudge you the longing glance you'd steal out of your office window once every so often? 

"Silvia eventually skipped town, and although you're technically still married, I don't think your heart broke any. But shortly after her departure, Celeste fell sick. She burned with fever and couldn't catch her breath. No doctor could pin a name on what was racking her with such pain, the pain, why won't it stop daddy?" 

Jake's mouth jumped. 

"You were so desperate, you came to me. You fell on your knees at my feet, weeping like a two year old, runny nose and all. I took Celeste from your arms, I cured her. Now I own you two. But I'm willing to drop my debt." 

Jake couldn't have been more stunned if he saw Asmodeus 12 in a ruffly pink tutu. 

Torrent shook the vial. "This," he explained, "Is something I've been working on. We have outsiders stumble into Eden on occasion, and common practice was to kill them. Given the objective behind our organisation, Asmodeus couldn't swallow the irony any longer and asked me to come up with an alternative. A mere dose blanks out the short-term memory, and selective bits of the long term ... namely, memories of this scummy hive. Jacob, I offer you your release. Take this, and I'll be happy to guide you to the front door and let you get back to the wandering that made you so happy. No more Eden, no more Asmodeus, no more Silvia, no more responsibility. No more me." 

"You'd ... leave me alone? No more mindspeak?" 

"What's the point of tormenting someone with no memory?" 

Jake stared at the little glass tube and the clear liquid that oozed about as Torrent twisted his wrist. His mouth watered and he swallowed. "Celeste?" 

Torrent curled his lip. "Well, she'd stay here, of course. What kind of a question is that?" 

Jake's heart turned to lead. His head ached badly. "I'm not going anywhere without her." 

"Oh, McTreggor!" Torrent threw back his head and cackled. "Such a noble facade. Go on and pretend you have a sinless heart, but I can _taste_ how badly you want this! Here." Torrent grabbed Jake's hand and placed the vial in his palm. It burned with cold. "Take it anyway. My gift to you. Use it whenever you choose." 

"Torrent--" 

"Or choose not to use it at all. I don't care." 

Jake stared at the vial, which sat like a lump of ice. It didn't warm up with his body heat. He wanted badly -- very badly -- to proclaim his warrior soul and hurl it back at Torrent like a bullet, watch it break and spatter glass on the drake's blue breastplate. He couldn't. 

"Of course not. You're only human. Here, I promised you Celeste, didn't I? One minute, please." The mechadrake disappeared into the wall again. 

_So, my daughter was practically by my side while I died. What a joke._ Jake smiled with good humour and pocketed Torrent's vial. He could feel it against his thigh, foreign. 

Rock scraped against rock once more, and Torrent reappeared. His arms were full. Jake stepped up to him slowly, almost timidly. 

"Celeste?" 

Something was wrong. Celeste wore the same red woolen sweater and small pair of blue jeans that she'd worn on their arrival to Eden, and they seemed clean. Her hair was neatly done, but the scenario was off. She barely stirred when Jake called her name. One leg swung feebly, draped over Torrent's scaly arm. Her runners were untied. 

"Well then, here." Torrent transferred Celeste to Jake. 

Her weight felt dead in his embrace. She opened her eyes slightly and looked at him, unfocused, uncomprehending. Briefly, Jake was taken back to his boyhood, and the speeding car that killed his Retriever mutt. The dog's final hours were reflected in Celeste's cloudy gaze ... the feeble movements of her limbs, the doughy, toneless muscles. A small scar was nicked mysteriously above her right eye, neat as you please. 

"Torrent, what have you inflicted upon my child?" 

"The treatment for urathax is experimental," the mechadrake said. "Happily, she's passed the first test; she hasn't gone blind. I don't think." 

Celeste shifted and cried feebly. Peppery tears pricked Jake's eyes. He closed them and rubbed his cheek, bristled with a few days' growth, into his daughter's dark hair. "Lord," he whispered. "What have I done to you?" 

He gently lowered Celeste to the ground and propped her in a sitting position against the wall next to Torrent's door. She responded unobjectingly, like a doll. A puppet. Blank eyes. Jake's heartbeat rolled. His breath quickened. 

"Oh oh, here come the waterworks again." Torrent jeered. "I -- Awk!" 

The leviathan squawked like an ugly bird and giggled back a few steps, slamming his armoured back against a thick tree-trunk. Opened-mouthed, his forked tongue dangling, he lifted his right arm. A lightdagger hilt jutted out of the upper muscle like a shard of splintered black bone. It jumped and jiggled as the tortured muscle contracted and convulsed. 

Torrent drew his breath sharply and yanked the dagger out, unable to surpress a faint howl. He lumbered a few steps from his tree and whipped the weapon to the ground. The blade extinguished itself upon the thudding impact with the thin layer of topsoil covering rock. "What the hell was that! Jake? Jacob, show yourself! What's not good for me isn't good for your daughter!" 

Jake's reply was a stinging plunge at the base of Torrent's neck. He left the dagger in its bed, retrieved the one Torrent had thrown, and stared at the creature, his left foot rattling against the hard ground as adrinaline washed his world red. Torrent's breath came quick, hot and hateful on his face. 

"I'm going to kill you now." Torrent lunged for Jake, and a dense sound exploded in the lagoon, like one giant footstomp, as Jake cracked the leviathan's jaw with the handle of his Wyvern-Walker. Torrent roared and clutched the offended side of his face with both paws. Black fluid dribbled from the corners of his lips. 

Jake smiled crookedly. "See? I use it." 

"You ditch-delivered son of a _whore!_" 

"I'm leaving this place, Torrent. And I'm taking Celeste." 

"You are not." 

"I am so. You won't be stopping me." 

Torrent smeared a trail of black blood over his snout as he wiped at his mouth. Warpaint. "I'm giving you exactly ten seconds to grow some common sense, Jacob." 

"I can kill you in less." Jake flicked his eyes to where he'd left Celeste. "I -- _Atticus!_" 

"What are you mouthing off about?" Torrent said, but Jake didn't look at him. Something emerged from Torrent's lab, something black and reptilian that skulked towards his daughter on stocky legs. 

"That's not Atticus, you fool," Torrent began, but Jake wasn't interested. He intercepted the creature, who watched with glittering golden eyes as the young warrior threw back his foot and booted the lizard in its chest. It rolled head over tail and cried out. 

"Oh really now Jake," Torrent barked, akwardly fishing blind for the blade stuck in the back of his neck. "We in Eden didn't go kicking around your offspring while she was in our care. Don't go whalloping the plaything _we_ made for her." 

"Plaything?" 

"That's another baby mechadrake you're punting. Almost every child in Eden recieves one to grow alongside and become inseperable partners with. Why should Celeste be any different? And while we're on the subject of your daughter, you were just making a great big noisy fuss about taking her and leaving. Well, if that's still your desire, I'd move quickly if I were you. Oops, too slow!" 

The air suddenly seemed to crash several degrees. It pressed down on Jake like an icy fog and grew thick with shadows. Animal-unease gripped him with the drop in air pressure and the soft rustlings that whispered in the lagoon's greenery. His instincts overloaded; he was surrounded, and his foes showed themselves at that moment as if they knew it. 

There were six adult humans, lithe, and armoured sparsely. Blade weapons dangled from the belt of each one, giving Jake the impression of deadly tinkers. One warrior caught Jake's eye in particular; a silver haired man, tall and commanding, with a little boy by his knee. The boy, no older than Celeste, Jake guessed, was practically a clone of the man he stood beside, straight and stiff and at attention. 

Torrent had succeeded in removing Jake's second dagger from his neck at some point, and he waved it around like a bloody baton as he gestured from behind the tall man and his son. "Jacob, these are Eden's elite. Leathal fighters, even better trackers. The Mechanical Hounds. You're good, but you can't lay flat six members from this unit at once. Even little Jody here might give you a run for your money, so the odds would be six and a half to one. Sorry, seven and a half." 

"Seven?" 

Torrent made a rotating motion with the dagger. 

Jake turned. The first thing he noticed was Celeste missing from the spot he'd parked her in. The second thing he noticed, she was a few feet off the ground, in the arms of a stranger. Third, the stranger was an _android._

The android, a male, was quite tall. His armour was a little bulkier than his human teammates', black, with smoky trimming. His hair was shorn close to his head, and his eyes were chilly, mean drops of blue, constantly jumping. Sentries. 

Jake was stunned. "You're a robot." 

"Give yourself a prize." 

"What ... are you doing here? You know what the people here live for, right?" 

The robot smiled nastily. Torrent broke out into another bout of ugly birdlike laughter that set Jake's teeth on edge. "Jake, you tunnel-peering half-wit. Do you think Eden is the only voice in the anti robot movement? Do you think its only leader is that shriveled old piece of fruit Asmodeus, who sits all day preening and squawking like a mad canary? Do you think there won't be select androids spared when Judgement Day comes, automations who swear to dedicate their life to humanity?" 

The warrior opened his mouth, but nothing came out. 

The robot spoke again. "So, your name is Jacob." 

"Jake." 

"Somehow it doesn't suit you." 

Jake paused akwardly, his thoughts a thick, huddled mass that filtered through his mouth far slower than he would've liked. He had questions, oh, he had questions, but all he could do was point. 

"That's my daughter you're holding." 

"Yep." 

"I'd like you to give her back to me." 

"Nope." 

Jacob's hand tightened around the handle of his remaining lightdagger, but the robot shook his head in a manner that made the warrior hesitate. 

"One move, and the Mechanical Hounds will swarm you. You'll never get a chance to even swing at me. Anyway, yer still jittery from the dregs of that poison in ya. Your daughter won't be fed to the dogs as long as you behave yourself for more than ten minutes at a time." 

Jake chewed on his lower lip. A scale of skin ripped free and he tasted blood. He absently reached up and squeezed the wound to staunch it. 

"The drake is right," the robot continued. "The Inheritors of Eden are just a small part of something much bigger. Y'got no love for robots, am I right?" 

Jake rubbed his pink-smeared fingers together. "I have no love for mechadrakes, either. Do you work for Eden?" 

"No," the robot said. "I'm under contract with another organisation, but they're allies with Eden, and trade work on occasion." 

"Another organisation," Jake echoed hollowly. 

"It's not as old as Eden. Still a baby of a thing, but it's growing. Won't likely cut its teeth in your time, or your daughter's time. But maybe her young'uns will live to see it. Hell, maybe they'll lead the charge that'll snuff out the renegades forever." 

"Oh sweet dancing sisters," Jake murmured, pressing his fingertips against his forehead in an attempt to knead away the vision of his blue-eyed grandchildren running around in Eden, ready to throw their lives away for a wanky mechadrake. "I should friggin' hope not." 

The robot shrugged his broad shoulders. "Who knows what the future holds. You won't live long enough to see much more of it, anyway." 

"Oh?" 

"We'll be crossing paths sooner than later." 

"Is that so." 

"Yep." The reploid shifted Celeste. "Circumstances favour it, I reckon. I'll be taking care of Celeste while I'm here, rearing her as one of the Mechanical Hounds. If y'want her back, you'll have to fight me. See how easy it all fits together?" 

"Unfortunately, yes." 

"As long as we hear each other. My name is Alren "Cold" Steel. I can tell by the way yer gob hangs open as wide as a boot that's a bit of a brain buster for a trooper like yourself, so just call me Arlen and throw yerself a party." Arlen gave Jake his shoulder and vanished back into the thick blanket of lagoon greenery. The Mechanical Hounds followed. 

"Well then," Torrent Leviathan said, not necessarily addressing Jake who stood gazing after Arlen, stunned. The mechadrake scooped up the forgotten black-scaled juvenile that'd been kicked earlier and slammed the door of his lab, which stood ajar. "Shall we catch up to Celeste, Nytetrayn?" He tailed the Mechanical Hounds and vanished. 

Celeste was gone, the lagoon was empty, and Jake was sore and exhausted. He started to plunge into the greenery where Arlen led his parade, but he knew it was useless; the book was closed on this chapter. Some sadistic narrator was pecking out his life page by page, and chasing Arlen, he knew, would turn up nothing. He needed rest, besides; he'd spent up what little energy he'd reserved lashing at Torrent. 

"We're not done yet." Jake peered up and the impossible spiral of Eden loomed above. The trace of poison remaining in his body seemed to thicken his bones and fill them with cement; the climb back to his warren was an impossibility (did he even have one, since being evicted from Ange's?). He slid his back down the rock wall beside Torrent's lab. It was marvelously cool, soothing. He closed his eyes and began to drift off to sleep. 

"No ... we're not done yet." 


	18. One AM

**Chapter 18: One A.M.**

The moon was a fingernail, a ghostly galleon bobbing over the grey clouds. 

"I am beginning to think," X said after a lifetime of silence, "that it's all just shades of grey." 

"I'm beginning to think that you're finally accepting life for what it is," Zero agreed slowly. "It'll save you some heartache in the end." 

"Wily." X turned to Zero. "I've heard of him, of course. But I think there's more to it than that. I never met the man, but sometimes I feel like I had in another lifetime. And I guess if that's true, the encounters weren't pleasant because when someone says his name I feel like I'm reading a label marked 'poison.' Do you know what I mean?" 

"I think so." 

"So I feel a little uneasy when you tell me that he's your creator and that if Monroe finds out there'll be trouble." 

"Yes." 

"And Monroe is definitely going to find out if he scans your systems." 

"Yes." 

X paused. "You haven't shown any Maverick tendencies yourself. Why is your origin your fault?" 

Zero jerked his head in surprise. "So ... you're not upset about me being created by Wily?" 

"I already told you, I'm uneasy about it. But you've proven yourself." 

"There's also my past. It's hazy, but I can remember that I've done some unsavoury things that I probably wouldn't want to reveal to you if I could even recall them properly." 

"The past is over." 

"Something about a village ... there was snow on the ground ... " 

"Don't try to remember it," X said sharply, startling Zero. "What's done is done." 

"That doesn't cut ice with humans. They're fickle pricks." 

"I don't know if Monroe could eject you from the Hunters because of who you are," X said slowly, furrowing his thoughts into his words. "But I'll keep your badge and take over your unit when the need arises." 

Zero grinned feebly. "So you feel it too." 

X returned the thin smile. "Yep. Things are going to end up in a bad way. Somehow, everything is going to turn sour. I'll watch over you. You can't stop the hurricane, but you can batten down the roof." 

"X, you're magnificent." Zero held out his hand. "Always be my friend." 

X slapped his own palm into Zero's clutch and the crimson Hunter was surprised at his uncharacteristic confidence. "Nothing else." 

* * *

"I was the King of Hell." 

Violen looked at Flame Stag. Flame Stag looked at Vile. Vile stared straight ahead into the blackness as he hissed his piece from in between his underlings. The three warriors sat on the sole piece of furniture in the damp chamber -- a greasy green chesterfield. 

"Rubicant bowed before me, offered me maidens in silver chains!" 

Flame Stag rolled his eyes and tossed his arm over the back of the chesterfield. "Oh, here we go." 

"Phoenix!" Violen called out. "Come fix Vile, he's talking crazy again." 

Vile's voice rose in defiance. "Oh, how their screams of agony rolled down my spine in a hot torrent of pleasure as I took them--" 

_Thock._

Vile cursed and whipped around. He saw Phoenix hunched over like a pool player, ready to flick his exposed neck with the end of her broomstick again if needed. 

"Vile. Shut up." 

"Accursed harpy. You think that leaving my neck bare for punishment will make me fall in line?" 

Phoenix leaned on her crude cue. "No, your neck is exposed because all we could afford to do on you is a patch job," she explained tiredly. "Newsflash: a cockroach-infested hole only yields so much in the way of good scrap metal. And don't forget that Overdrive eloped with Bass' journal, the one we were supposed to use to blackmail Zero. We're doin' A-OK, Jack." 

"You could rebuild me more than adequately if you were willing to put forth the effort," Vile scoffed. 

Phoenix angrily smacked the back of Vile's seat with her palm. "Yeah, well, you know what Vile? You wouldn't be a Recycling Day mascot if you'd just listened to me in the first place. 'Don't taunt humans,' I told you. 'It's probably not a good idea to toy with the emotions of a species that averages 75 lousy years.' So what do you go and do? 'Oooo look at me Celeste I'm big bad Vile and I am going to drink your love interest's blood and chase it down with your family's eyeball fluids! Please come and rip me up, I know you Irish half-breeds aren't temperamental at all! Kick my ass! It'll be like old times! Here, I'll even pull my pants down for you.'" 

Violen and Flame Stag guffawed at both ends of the chesterfield. 

"S--stop it!" Vile sputtered, throwing his head back and forth at the two Mavericks. _"Stop laughing!"_ he screamed at Stag and slammed down his half-melted shoulder-mounted cannon. The weapon snapped right out of its socket. Stag fell off the chesterfield the same instant that the cannon clattered stoically on the concrete and rolled away. 

_"Oh my God!"_ The fiery warrior shrieked with laughter and rolled on his back, eyes screwed shut as he hic-sobbed for air. _"Oh my God! That was so _perfect!_"_

_"CELESTE!"_ Vile's eyes burned red and he swept to his feet like a snake rising to strike, the air whistling eerily between the cracks of his armour as he did so. "Mongrel bitch of the McTreggor clan, enemy of my kind!" 

Violen looked up at his former master, one fat cheek slumped against his huge fist. "He's gone into mechadrake mode again." 

"You will fall on your knees before me and beg for mercy when we meet again, but I will take you captive and peel your skin off your miserable bones inch by inch. You'll be driven insane by the agony long before you die." 

Phoenix rubbed the underside of her beak thoughtfully. "Ah, the promise of revenge is the sweetest fuel for smouldering hearts." 

Vile kicked Flame Stag, whose giggles were severed by a pain-filled gasp. "On your hoofs, you miserable hunk of venison. All of you, come with me. No more whining about bad luck and journals gone. It's time to show a little resourcefulness for once. I've got an idea." 

Vile was back in charge, there was no doubt about it, even if his patchy armour moved in mysterious ways when he strode out of the room -- and the lone peanut still clattered in his chest cavity. Flame Stag stuffed his fists into his mouth to keep from laughing again. His side still stung badly. 

* * *

Iris looked out the west window of the Medical Unit. It offered a spectacular view of the void. The Skeleton Grasslands stretched endlessly, dark blue waves of abnormal grass rippling like shadows of passing spectres. Maverick Hunter HQ stood sentry at the edge of nothing, keeping the city safe from what they feared; the wild, the unknown with its waning moon setting over the grasslands, an alien's slit eye looking away from a world it's studied far too long. 

A hospital bed was shoved up against the window. When Genesis grew tired of a patient, he parked them there. He began the practise after he received complaints from some of the humans that staring out that particular window made them feel a little funny in the head and drove them to get up and back to work. 

Jackdaw was lying on the bed now. She didn't seem to mind. 

Iris looked at her. She didn't call Jackdaw a friend out loud, but she somehow felt drawn to the soft-spoken girl. Outcasts unite, hourrah. "How are you feeling, Jackdaw?" 

"Mm." Jackdaw was curled up on her side. She looked even worse than she had on her arrival. Her frame was still too skinny, her features were too pale, and her eyes were dull. Even her odd limp hadn't healed. Last time Iris inspected the gimpy ankle (she couldn't figure out what had caused the problem in the first place, and Jackdaw couldn't remember), she silently marvelled at how _slim_ the newcomer's legs and feet were. It wasn't necessarily becoming. 

"You haven't eaten all day, Jackdaw." 

"Not hungry." The words crawled like a traffic jam. 

"Has Genesis checked you out?" 

"Yes," Jackdaw insisted, but Iris caught the pause before she spoke. "Iris, don't. I don't want a parade about this." 

But Iris didn't hear; she'd gone to fetch Genesis. Her old confidence was coming back, and it pleased Genesis when she showed initiative. "The road to recovery," he called it and saddled her with extra tasks these days, which she performed well. 

"Genesis?" 

The fox was at his desk, and Iris caught him just as he ripped a hunk out of a tuna fish sandwich. He looked at her, a bit of crust dangling from the side of his snout. "Hmfurrph?" 

Iris frowned at the shower of crumbs falling onto Genesis' paperwork. It wasn't like Genesis to be so sloppy. "Jackdaw hasn't been well all day. Would you take a look at her?" 

The medic crammed the rest of his late-night snack into his mouth and swallowed it in one gulp. "Ahh, that's goodness. Jackdaw, eh? What're you trying to do, screw up her probation?" 

"Of course not." 

"If she wants to lie in here, that's fine. But if I have to check her out, it'll be on her report. If that happens too much in the next three months, she could be out of here." 

"Oh ... " Iris raised her hand to her mouth. "I forgot about that. I didn't mean ... " 

Genesis walked into the washroom. "It's all right," he called over the steamy hiss of the sink. Iris could hear splashing; he was washing his hands. "I guess I shouldn't expect you to be at 100% just yet, even if you have been showing a lot of improvement. Work on that common sense of yours and I'll take a quick look at Jackdaw and leave the report this time." He exited shaking off his paws and a few stray droplets hit Iris on her face and startled her. 

"Sorry," Genesis cackled and walked over to Jackdaw's bed. "How're you feeling, 'daw?" 

The girl craned her neck around to look at Genesis without unfurling. " 'Daw?" 

"Answer the question." Genesis said and took her wrist in one paw. "Well, your heartbeat's a little rapid, nothing serious. Will you uncurl already? I don't have a license to practise on armadillos." 

Jackdaw complied and after a bit more vague prodding, Genesis stepped back and shrugged. Jackdaw closed her eyes and turned away from the fox and Iris once again. 

Iris looked up at her boss. "Genesis?" 

"Let her sleep." Genesis drew the curtains around Jackdaw's bed. "It's exhaustion, pretty severe at that. I don't know what would cause it; she wasn't in training today and even on days when they drive her like a workhorse, she doesn't end up like this. I guess I'll give her a vitamin shot and see how she is in the morning." 

Iris stared ahead but couldn't see through the opaque curtain. "I hope she's not coming down with something." 

"I don't think she is." 

"Well," Iris said, "Thanks for not reporting this. I didn't mean to get her into any trouble." 

Genesis waved it off. "If she gets any worse, I might have to. Still, many humans join the Hunters in the first place because they have histories they want to get away from. Unless it's necessary, I don't like to start up a new scroll for them to angst over. I just want to help them however I can and then we can all get on with our lives." 

A low groan rose up from the corner behind Genesis and Iris. "Going on like a bloody virgin martyr," Tess rasped in a sleepy voice. "Talk a little louder you wretched animal, I don't think they can quite hear you in the Garage." The plastic-covered mattress under the girl crinkled as she rolled over. "Thanks for waking me up." 

Genesis smiled at her. "Anytime, my angel." 

Tess hauled herself into a sitting position and then drooped at the edge of her cot, her hair hanging in her face. "I need to get some fresh air." 

"It's one in the morning." 

"So?" 

Genesis threw his head back and let his tongue loll out of the side of his mouth. "Fine, whatever," he gave. "But you're not going alone at this hour. Iris, help Tess into her robe and take her for a short walkies around the grounds." 

"On second thought--" Tess began. 

"No no, you made this great big fuss about going outside. Run along and take Iris with you." 

Iris didn't miss the dirty look Tess stabbed Genesis with, but she bottled up her hurt behind her tight line of a mouth and reached for the laconic blue robe hanging by Tess' bed. "Let's go, Mrs Ewell." Since Celeste and Tess had rebuked her for wanting to see Paul, Iris never talked to Tess unless it was necessary; and when she had to talk, her formalities were washed in ice water. 

But while Iris helped Tess get dressed, she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. _Of course Tess hates you. You tried to grab her baby. You've been acting like a weirdo since you were re-activated. Colonel's gone._ Iris' soul shuddered. _Deal with it._

Tess took a step and stumbled a bit. Genesis initially believed she was recovering well from the birth, but lately her dulled spirit and tired body were singing other songs. Iris wordlessly steadied her. _I know Tess has a right to be mad at me. But I couldn't help myself. I keep having that dream ... _

Iris shut her eyes and clenched her jaw, banging a lid down on her memories. 

"Something wrong?" Tess looked back at her. 

"N-no." 

"Well, let's get this over with, then." 

* * *

Crickets chirred in the dark grass, one of Iris' most favourite sounds in the world. The air was humid and still, and the nurse walked beside Tess along the perimeter of the building. Streetlamps washed their path in soft white light. Tess breathed deeply and looked better than she had indoors, although Iris knew the young woman would never share her feelings out loud. She answered anyway. "It _is_ a nice night." 

"Hm." Tess found something interesting to look at on the lawn. 

Iris tested the waters once more. "I like summer nights. Don't you?" 

"I like reploids in bad Rainbow-Brite dresses who shut up." 

Iris sighed deeply through her nose and dropped her head, her hands folded in front of her as she quietly walked on. 

"Oh Iris." Tess heaved a sigh of her own. "I'm sorry. That was harsh of me. I haven't been feeling well." 

"It's okay," Iris said, eager to seize the moment. "I'm the one who should be apologising to you." 

"For?" 

"The time I tried to take Paul from you." 

"Oh." Tess squirmed. "Yeah, that was kind of creepy." 

"I haven't been the same since Colonel died," Iris said, and the before she could stop herself: "I keep having this dream." 

"Yeah, I guess I'd go a little crazy if I lost Josh," Tess replied, ignoring Iris' last sentence. 

"It's ... " Iris stopped, and Tess was forced to stop too and watch as the pretty reploid buried her face in her hands. 

"Iris, are you all right?" 

"I can't stand it," Iris suddenly wailed, throwing her arms down to her sides. "I want a family!" 

"Oh, Christ." Tess slapped her forehead. "One a.m., Hour of the Loon." 

Iris sank to her knees and hid her face again. She could hear Tess mutter an oath behind the sobs that pounded in her head, but she also felt the girl bend down beside her and slip a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Come on Iris. Talk to Auntie Tess." 

"Don't make fun of me!" 

"I'm not, I'm not." Tess rocked Iris gently. "It's just my way of trying to cheer you up." 

Iris withdrew her hands and swallowed her last sobs as she stared up at the black sky. The stars would have nothing to do with the two girls, chased away by the unnatural halos of the streetlamps. "I keep having this dream," she repeated softly. "Zero and I are together. We have children. We're happy." 

"Um, but--" 

"I know, I know," Iris spat. "Reploids can't have children. Cruelty." 

"I didn't even know reploids had maternal instinct." 

"We usually don't," Iris quaked. "I don't know why I'm different. But the dream won't stop coming. It keeps telling me to--" she bit off her words. "Never mind." 

"Must've been something that came after your revival and upgrade," Tess mused and went silent as the weight of her words slid back on her. "Iris, I'm sorry for the overall crumbyness of the human race. Some idiot wanted to try something new, I guess. 'Hey Joe, let's see if I can make this one long for a baby she can't have.' 'Sure thing, George! Hey, it works. And she's the one suffering, not us. We rock. Let's go to a hockey game.'" 

"I guess it's not Zero's fault that he fell for a human, then," Iris said quietly. A pause. "I hate her," she continued in the same soft voice. 

"Don't, Iris," Tess said. But Iris was smiling, crocodile-like. 

"I feel much better now, Tess. Thanks for talking to me." 

Tess cocked her head dubiously. "Are you sure you feel better, Iris? Maybe you should talk to Genesis or Lifesaver. Maybe they can do something for you." 

"I'll be all right. Are you ready to go back?" 

Tess stared at her for a long minute. "I just need a few minutes to myself," she said slowly. "I'll be right behind you." 

"Okay. See you inside." 

* * *

The first thing Iris heard when she walked back into the Medical Unit was the voice of Josh over by Paul's cradle. 

"Wheee, up goes little Paul!" Josh's words were a little slurred and the faintest hint of whiskey wafted from the direction of the young man. It explained why Josh would choose to visit his son at one thirty in the morning. "Loves his daddy, yes he does. Up he goes again, and--" 

There was an audible thump and the baby wailed lustily. 

Zero tore around a corner and startled Iris. Zero paid her no mind as he pushed past and ran in Josh's direction. "Did you drop that baby?" He snarled. 

"Uh ... no?" 

"You mad old bastard, did you just drop your prodigy?" 

Iris watched them. The baby in Josh's arms. The reploid she loved. Her fists clenched and she tried to beat down memories of her dream, the children laughing, the sunlight woven in their long golden hair ... 

She would have it, she would have her dream. _He_ promised it to her every night it played in her head. There was a small price, of course ... 

Iris glanced over again at the baby, who yawned and snuggled in his father's arms while Josh argued with Zero. 

"See? Paul's fine! Caught him on the first bounce!" 

Iris thought of Tess comforting her that night and she felt a thread of guilt wind around her stomach. 

But everything had a price. 


	19. Dreamline

**Dreamline**

Jody lay on his bunk with his fingers laced behind his head. His jaw was set tight and his mouth was a grim slash on his angular face. 

On the left side of the room, there was a soft plop as the ice cream cone he'd flung against the wall minutes earlier fell to the floor. 

_I don't want to hurt her._

Oh, this was a great revelation. Just loverly. Jody Loy, great Mechanical Hound of Eden like his daddy and his daddy before, given the honour of fetching the famed Celeste McTreggor and delivering her to Eden. 

_"And when you bring her back,"_ Jody's shoulder twitched at the memory of Asmodeus' paw lying heavily on it, _"she'll fight by your side. I'll give her to you as your wife and the mother of your children ... " _

"Hey Loy!" One of Jody's barrack-mates poked his head up over his bunk. "Dessert time down at the mess hall! Vanilla ice cream! Did you get some?" 

"Bugger off!" 

The startled boy barked an insult of his own before climbing back down and leaving the barracks. Jody's mind returned to its slow boil. Celeste didn't remember him. She didn't remember Eden. How the hell did you forget about something like a giant underground city, anyway? Jody would've loved the answer to that. 

While in the womb of Eden, getting Celeste back and having her seemed like the most important thing in the world. Then Jody was expelled into the light and given a simple task. A simple task that slammed into three major barriers. First, his eyes had a hard time adjusting to sunlight. He'd never been in it before -- he'd never had any reason to venture up, and neither had his father or his father before him or his father before _him._ Thus it wouldn't surprise him if the ol' genes had decided to go a little lax in the pigment department after so many generations. The headaches had been fantastic as he recalled. Next was the fact that the world wasn't set up so that men could easily snatch women off the street like meat at a grocery store freezer. As Jody worked with Celeste, he grew to admire her to the point that he knew he could never just club her over the head and drag her off by her hair. 

And that metaphor held hands with his third problem, which had been refreshed in his brain by the sight of that damnable ice cream; he didn't want to hurt her. Maybe Eden was different, but here, if there was no trust or sense of friendship, a relationship was worthless. He didn't want Celeste handed over to him like a prize. He wanted to be her friend before he was anything else. Just like the Olden Days, ironically. Asmodeus had the wrong idea -- 

Oh no. Oh nononono. He couldn't think that way about Eden or Asmodeus. Reploids were filth. 

Jody wondered if such loyalty would save him from getting his head lopped off by Asmodeus' katana when he returned empty handed. 

If he returned. 

He rolled over on his side and exhaled loudly through his nose. Things were once so much simpler. But what was the point of pining for the past? You may as well ask the sun to extinguish itself. Still, the wretched thing about the human brain is that it loves to ramble over memories given the right key -- like a vanilla ice cream cone -- and it never knows when to shut up, even when told. There's nothing to do but let it burn itself out. Jody closed his eyes, an unwilling spectator. 

* * *

Celeste woke up and blackness pressed down on her eyes. She was racked with a soreness and exhaustion that seemed too large for her small body. Was she still in the hospital? Was she still sick? No, hospitals still had movement at night, the soft padding of nurses, the lights in the hallways, the quiet announcements over the PA. She noticed such things whenever the fever stopped scrambling things up and let her come back to the real world, always at night. And in the hospital, her dad had always been there, sometimes stroking her hair and talking to her soothingly, sometimes wiping her face with a damp cloth, always holding her whenever she was sick. And when the fever ducked her under again, her dad squeezed her hand and she was aware of it like a rope in rough water. 

But her dad wasn't there now. There was just the darkness, a strange smell in the air, and the rough sheets under her hands. 

"Dad?" 

Nothing. Hot tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes. A warm ball of ache swelled in Celeste's stomach and filled her throat. 

"Dad!" 

"Be quiet!" someone hissed at Celeste out of the thick darkness like a spectre, and she yelped, startled into silence. When the voice didn't scold her further, she felt even more abandoned and started to sob. 

"By Asmodeus, keep your gob shut!" the voice returned, louder this time. 

"Aw, Jahn, she's just a little one," another voice creaked, kindlier but still frightening for its disembodied nature. "Torrent said she'd probably wake up confused." 

"I don't care. It's too late for this garbage, and it's never too soon for a child to learn that in Eden, you shut your mouth when you're told." 

Despair and fright bubbled up Celeste's throat. "I want my dad!" She howled, and sleepy murmurs floated to her from seemingly everywhere in the room. 

"What's the noise--" 

"Get Arlen in here. He'll give her something to cry about--" 

"Why does Torrent always do this?--" 

A line of light appeared a little to Celeste's right, and it widened. A door. It swept open and the light that spilled in revealed the phantoms; women of various ages in their beds, placed in two long rows against the walls of a narrow room. They all squinted against the onslaught and groaned. Only Celeste seemed to notice the small boy who walked into the room, holding a bowl in his hands. He closed the door behind him, but left it open just enough for Celeste to be able to see him as he walked up next to her bed. His wispy hair was the colour of a cloudy day, and he had a little ponytail. Celeste was reminded of her dad and the tears pooled in her eyes again. 

"Hello," the boy said. 

Celeste curled up miserably, but didn't look away. "Hi." 

"Don't be scared." The boy took one of Celeste's hands in one of his own. It was cold. "You'll be okay. My name's Jody. And you're Celeste." 

"Y-yeah." 

"How old are you?" 

"Four." 

"I'm five!" He said brightly. "I brought you some ice cream. Do you like vanilla?" 

"It's ... " Celeste swallowed her tears and some of the ache went away. "It's okay." 

Jody helped her sit up and handed her the blue bowl. She spooned up the ice cream rapidly -- she was hungry. She stayed quiet until she finished and asked Jody, "Where's my dad?" 

"What's your dad's name?" Jody asked, taking the empty bowl from her. 

"Big people sometimes call him Jacob, but his name's Jake." 

"I don't know where he is. We'll find him." 

"Am I still in the hospital?" 

"Hospital? No, this is where they put people who don't have a room yet. I have to go bring this bowl back to the kitchen now." 

"Can I come with you?" Celeste asked urgently. The thought of Jody shutting the door and the women swooping down on her again was more than she could bear. 

"Sure. Can you walk all right?" 

Celeste slid from the edge of the bed. She was dressed in her red sweater (she never liked it much; it itched) and pair of blue jeans, but her feet were bare and the cold from the concrete floor zipped up to her ankles like shockwaves. Then her knees vanished and Jody was standing over her. 

"You fell. Are you sure you're okay?" 

Celeste blinked at the ceiling, dimly lit by diffused light from the open door. She felt like the world had jumped three seconds ahead and left her behind. "That was weird." 

"My dad told me you were pretty sick. I guess you're still tired from that." Jody grasped her under her arms and lifted her quite easily. Celeste wobbled, but she didn't fall again. 

"Follow me," Jody said. "I'll walk slow." 

Celeste staggered clumsily. It was like learning how to walk again, and Jody would help her up whenever an irregularity in the ground caused her legs to buckle -- 

* * *

Celeste's legs buckled, and she yelped, spilling onto the training room floor with a slap. Her damp palms screeched on the polished wooden surface, skinning them. Something sharp slashed the back of her shoulder and a black fog misted the backs of her eyes when she felt the object graze the bone underneath. If there was one feeling in the world that set her teeth on edge ... 

"...Miss?" The word focused slowly in Celeste's head an eternity later. She felt like someone was pulling yards of cotton out of her ears. Her shoulder was wracked with a sticky numbness. 

"Are you all right?" 

Celeste turned her head to the side -- she knew through experience that she shouldn't move her injured shoulder -- and saw Jody kneeling beside her. 

"You'll be okay." 

Celeste's heart gave a jump for a reason she couldn't put her finger on, but something told her it was the same reason her legs had given out on her in the first place. She looked at the silver-haired boy. She'd been doing a routine training drill with him, and then suddenly ... something punched her in the back of the head. Not literally, but some magnificent memory touched her brain without warning, like a flashburn. She'd once fallen as a child -- somewhere, somehow -- and best as she could tell, her body responded sympathetically to the vague memory. 

_What manner of stupidity is this?_

"Yeah, I'll be okay. Just give me a second." Celeste slowly sat up with Jody's help, and some spiritual recess of her being, guarded from the effects of her physical shock, was surprised when she didn't shy away from his touch like she normally would have. "It's just my shoulder." 

"Your legs just kind of gave out, and I couldn't stop my attack in time. I was surprised. I guess that'll teach me to be ready for anything." Jody scratched the back of his neck. "You're bleeding." 

By now there was a small group around Celeste, and she felt mildly irritated at all of them nodding and ahh'ing over a wound she couldn't see. "It probably needs to be mended," she said. "I'll go see Genesis." 

"Follow me," said Jody. "I'll walk slow." 

Celeste shook her head to clear the cobwebs. "No thanks, Jody. Just help Ozzie keep an eye on things while I get fixed up. Tigre, will you help me out?" 

"Sure!" answered a reploid member of the Night Vipers. He offered a hand to Celeste, but she stood up on her own and started towards the door, her new, uneasy feelings being stomped into ruts in her brain. 

The huntress barely heard Tigre call from behind her, "Miss, maybe you should let me get you some gauze? You're puddling pretty badly." 

* * *

Light barely touched the world under the city. The labyrinth of sewers was sometimes blessed by dusty shafts of light that would spill in through the grates set by the street curbs, but any sun worshippers who found themselves in the sewers were generally SOL. However, when Torrent Leviathan decreed that it was a beautiful day, Overdrive Ostrich knew better than to argue. 

The large bird Maverick timidly watched his mentor as he tightened some screws protruding from a large hunk of machinery set at the edge of a water-vein. 

"Not much room to work down here," Torrent grumbled. He paused, scratched around his horns, and wound his body around the mysterious project, straining for a particularly hard-to-reach bolt. "C'mere, my love ... " 

The machine had a thick, squat base made of mismatched metals and set with a colourful array of mismatched dials and switches. A transparent tube about a metre and a half high was set on the base, and a hose was attached to one side of the tube like the mouth of a hideous leech. The hose snaked across the platform and its other end was poked into the scummy sewer water. 

"I don't think Soaking traditionally uses runoff from storms and garbage," Torrent mused, "but wet is wet. Might even get some fun results out of this. I once kept a cat alive on this stuff for a year, and boy I really have to wonder what people pour down here. Her kittens were something to see." 

Overdrive wrung his large, feathery hands together. "Y-yes sir ... I just hope Miss Phoenix is pleased with the results of our project. I want her to be happy with me again." 

Torrent glanced up. "Are you still here?" he asked. "Well, never mind. Build me a fire. I'm taking a break." 

Overdrive did as he asked, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with Torrent's matches and the pile of damp wood he used as his hearth. The matches wouldn't catch in the sad, heavy air of the sewers with its ceaseless slap of water against brick that echoed like moaning voices. Home seemed farther away every night. 

"Give me those you omadhaun." Torrent snatched the book of matches away and scraped one across the break of his jittery pupil. It flared to life. "There, that got 'er going." Torrent threw it onto his pile of wood, and a model of hell was instantly, miraculously ablaze. He sat cross-legged next to it, and motioned for Overdrive to do the same. They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

"All I need is a pipe," Torrent suddenly cackled, "and a nice Irish Setter. Eh, boy?" 

Overdrive smiled feebly. "Yeah." 

"Well, you're too ugly to be any grandchild of mine," Torrent grunted, "but let's roleplay. I'm going to pass some wisdom of the world onto you. We're going to have our baby delivered to us soon, and we can thank Mindspeak for our express delivery. Do you know anything about Mindspeak, Big Bird?" 

"No, sir." 

"I can't put any real definition on it, so too bad for you. I guess you could say that, in its simplest form, Mindspeak allows two people to communicate telepathically. Once a link is established, those two people will might become the most hated of rivals, or else they might share a love deeper than words could ever explain." 

"Oh," Overdrive said. He tried not to flinch when a spider as big as a man's hand crawled parallel to his leg. 

"I used to think it was very uncommon," Torrent continued, pinching his chin between the knuckle of his index finger and his thumb. "As time goes on, I'm beginning to see I'm wrong. In fact, I think we might be witnessing the next stage of human evolution." 

The spider next to Overdrive lifted a front leg, brought it down, and lifted it again. 

"Some of us mechadrakes have Mindspeak. Don't know how, don't know why, but we do. I've been playing with it for time out of mind, and it's gotten to the point that I can tap into just about any mind that I wish, even if the person on the other end doesn't share the ability." 

The spider charged for Overdrive, and Overdrive squawked and squashed it with a particularly wet sound. Torrent went on as if nothing had happened. 

"It's particularly easy if said victim has a very troubled mind. Troubled minds tend to have the front door locked tight, but the walls are decayed and full of plenty of cracks to spill in through and plant suggestions. My latest quarry has been none other than that air headed member of the late Repliforce, Iris." 

Overdrive's hand was covered in spider-goo. He felt queasy. 

"Now _there's_ a disturbed child. She'll do what I want, neat as you please. She wants children." Torrent snorted. "What do they feed Reploids these days? Chocolate Frosted Delusion Flakes? Mindspeak can drive people to do stupid things, let me tell you. Iris isn't the only idiot in history. I have some good stories about a fellow and a gal I used to know some years ago ... " 

* * *

Jake woke up slowly, pleasantly. First his fingers came to life and they twitched a little as he opened his eyes and yawned hugely, stretching out. He was on a narrow cot with a thin mattress, but he'd slept on the ground enough times in his life so that even a frugal futon such as this felt nice. Well, there was the bed he'd shared with Silvia, but he shoved the memory out of his head. He didn't want unpleasant thoughts spoiling his fine form. His joints were free of the dull, rubbing ache that had been tormenting him in days past. He felt good, very good. 

"You're awake, then?" A large blue mechadrake with a small topknot of black hair glided up to Jake's bedside. He was wearing a white lab coat. If anyone ever told Jake they'd seen a mechadrake wearing a lab coat, the mental image would've set him laughing. But there was nothing undignified about Eamon, as his nametag branded him. 

"Well, I'm talking to you, aren't I?" 

"So you are, you clever little man." Eamon picked up a fresh jumpsuit folded at the foot of the bed and handed it to Jake. "You've been asleep for about 18 hours," he explained. "You staggered in here and kind of snarled at Dr Ison and I when we asked you if we could help you. Then you just curled up on that cot, pulled the covers over your head and dropped dead asleep. Dr Ison recognised you from when he treated you with antivenin. He figured he'd give you the final dose while you were asleep, but you weren't as dead to the world as we originally thought." 

"Really?" Jake fiddled with the jumpsuit but didn't make a move to get into it. 

"When Dr Ison got near you, you woke up and jumped him." 

"Oh," Jake said, and grinned. "Sorry about that. Lived a great deal of my life outdoors, you see. Had to wake up and fight for my life more than once." 

"No hard feelings. It took some doing, but we subdued and sedated you. You fought like a tiger in a net." 

"No wonder I feel so rested." Jake paused. "You drugged me. That brings back all sorts of unpleasant memories. I don't know whether to thank you or get as mad as hell." 

"Before you decide," said Eamon, "get dressed in that new jumpsuit. Your old one was pretty woebegone." 

Jake slid out of bed and did as he was told while he looked around. Dr Ison and Eamon performed their duties in a moderately sized square room. There were only a few other empty cots aside from his own, and what medical equipment was available seemed a little dated. Eamon must've noticed Jake's critical eye because he said, "Eden has a hospital of its own about halfway up the Tree. Much bigger and modern. This is just in case someone needs to be stabilized before going up. You're quite near the bottom, you see, and our elevators can be slow." 

"I was a little curious," Jake admitted while zipping up the suit. "I just finished spending days in a hospital above ground." 

The blue mechadrake didn't pry, but remained bent over some work at his desk, pecking rapidly at a keyboard with his long pointer-claws. Jake was surprised to find himself in such a jovial mood. He couldn't remember ever having a friendly discussion with a mechadrake. He idly searched himself for the reason of his good humour and discovered it quickly; Celeste was all right. 

He could feel her presence in the back of his head like a pleasant thought. She was back on line, for lack of a better term, and she seemed stable and happy enough. As best as Jake could tell, Celeste didn't know anything about her Mindspeak, poor girl. Jake could sense her and less desirable company like Torrent, but if Celeste knew anything about them, it wasn't obvious. She evidently had _some_ sense of the matter ... even as a newborn, if Jake became agitated, she'd get upset. But there was no full-blown communication, not yet. Some might've considered Mindspeak to be a beneficial thing, but not Jake. Hearing voices just couldn't be good for you. And then you had sports like Torrent who insisted on stinking up the bus for everyone. During sleepless nights, Jake would stare wide-eyed and confide silently to the ceiling that he was afraid his sanity was eroding-- 

"Lousy jeans," Dr Ison grumbled while he stepped into the room, brushing off his dusty pants. 

Jake nodded solemnly. "Genes are the curse of our wretched race." 

"Well, I wouldn't say they're all that bad," Dr Ison said, peering up at Jake. "They're comfortable. Oh, by the way, you have company." 

Something pointy poked Jake in his right shoulder. "Turn around, bright eyes." 

Jake turned, and so did his stomach. "Blackavar!" he grinned sourly at the black mechadrake. "Did you find a nice hole to duck in when Asmodeus called for Ange?" 

"Keep your mouth shut, Outsider." 

"Mechadrakes. Loyal and true until someone ties a pork chop on the neck of those who love them and declares a famine." 

Ange walked into the room and sighed. "Blackavar, stop growling at the man. Please leave us alone, I need to talk to Jake for a minute." 

Blackavar bared his teeth. "Anything you want to say can be said in front of me, my girl. Or are there secrets in Eden now?" 

Dr Ison cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his sand-coloured hair. "Actually Blackavar, your presence is upsetting Jake, and he still needs his rest. Please leave my patient alone for a few minutes." 

Blackavar tossed a snarl at Ison, but he turned sharply and stalked out of the room. 

Jake sat on the edge of his bed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get your pet in a snit." 

"I just wanted to see how you're feeling." 

Jake looked at her and smiled. "You know how I'm feeling." 

Ange pressed a finger over her lips and rolled her eyes back at Eamon and Dr Ison, but they seemed busy with their own matters and didn't hear Jake. Jake nodded, knowing what was safe. 

"I'm feeling much better, thanks." He looked into her eyes, which were dark brown. "Thanks, really, for everything. You saved my life." 

"Didn't I say I had a feeling Fate was going to make friends of us?" 

"Possibly. These past few days have been kind of a blur." 

"It's a bit late in the day for you to get started in on anything," Ange said. She also sat down on the cot and her hand brushed against Jake's in a way that seemed accidental, but he knew better. 

"Plenty of time to pass 'till tomorrow, I guess," Jake said. "Since you're my only friend here, maybe you could tell me a bit about the place. Were you born here?" 

"Yes." Ange hooked a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. "My grandfather was in the wrong place when some robots malfunctioned and hurt him badly. After he recovered, he found his way here. He was never too affectionate towards robots, and the sentiment kind of runs in the blood." 

"I'm not overly keen on them, either. Met a few during my travels. Bad experiences." 

"So then, you fit in perfectly here. Why am I your 'only friend?'" 

Jake shrugged. "Celeste -- my daughter -- caught sick and Torrent was my last option to save her. Since mechadrakes fancy being paid in warm bodies, here I am. I guess I'm supposed to be happy here, but I'm not social to begin with and being double-crossed hasn't helped much." 

"I'm sorry," Ange said sincerely. "You've just had some bad luck. Asmodeus has been good to me and my family. I like living here." 

"Is that why you turned as white as paper when he called you?" 

Ange opened her mouth and shut it again. 

Jake laughed. "It's all right. Nothing wrong with being scared. Although I will say that I prefer your skin colour as it is now. It's lovely, really." 

"Not a very subtle one, are you?" 

"I didn't mean to be rude," Jake said apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just ... know pretty when I see it." 

Ange started and got to her feet quickly. Then she paused, looked at Jake, and thawed a little with a laugh that sounded like a songbird in a meadow. "If only you could see the look on your face right now, Jake ... you look like a little boy. Now I know what Torrent meant when he told you that you have an odd manner. I guess you picked it up while wandering, but you'd be smart to settle down a little bit." Ange left the room and Jake could hear her arguing in a low voice with Blackavar outside the door. Jake leaned the side of his face into his hand and stared at Ange's wake. Eamon left his work and came to stand beside him. 

"You know, it's odd." 

Jake looked at him. "What?" 

"Torrent doesn't like to talk to the humans here unless he has a very specific reason to. How would Ange know what he said to you?" 

"Maybe ... " Jake's heart raced. "Maybe I was delirious while she was taking care of me and I said something." 

"Maybe," Eamon said slowly before shaking his head. "At any rate, Torrent is definitely right about you. Stay here tonight, we'll find a place for you in the morning. It's probably a good idea to exercise a bit, since you've been still for so long." 

Jake stood up, stretched, and mounted a treadmill in one corner of the room that was probably there for physiotherapy cases like himself. He started with a walk, and Ange bid him good night. Jake smiled inwardly and jumped into a trot. 

Okay, so Mindspeak wasn't all bad news. 

* * *

"Huh!" Celeste jolted awake and stared down at a white-tiled floor from a considerable height. Her shoulder felt like a hive of bees were living just under the skin. 

"Twenty stitches!" she could hear Genesis sing above her. "Not bad. It should hold up pretty well. I used good old-fashioned catgut, as usual. Every other idiot doctor in this city uses a mending laser, and then wonder why their patients' guts spill on the floor whenever they sneeze. You feeling all right?" 

"It's not the worst I've ever been gouged," Celeste answered truthfully while sitting up on the table. "Lucky it's my bad side." She remembered the time a Maverick had injured her left arm, which never regained its full strength. Her new wound now topped her wrecked muscle tissue. 

"Don't overdo it, but don't neglect it, either. Your arm or your shoulder. I noticed you've kind of adopted a one-handed fighting technique. It's cool, but your arm isn't getting the exercise it needs, and now you're risking your shoulder on top of it." Genesis pulled open the curtain before Celeste had a chance to get her shirt back on, but luckily no one was in her immediate line of sight. Except for ... 

"Iris," Genesis asked the pretty reploid, "will you pull up Celeste's file for me?" 

"Yes," Iris answered, but she was staring at Celeste, who struggled to put her shirt back on as quickly as possible, her dressed shoulder screaming in fiery protest. She shuddered. Iris' stare wasn't openly hostile, but it was unsettling, accusing, like she was drowning and Celeste was sitting by the bank doing nothing to help her ... 

"Celeste?" Tess called unseen to her friend from across the ward. "You're here again? God, when are they going to just write your name on one of the beds and be done with it?" 

Celeste didn't answer. Her eyes were locked with Iris'. There was a message, something vital about the stare, but if she opened her mouth, Iris would bound away like a startled deer ... 

Paul started to cry and the ice bridge shattered as Iris turned her head away. Celeste quietly slid down from the table as Tess tried to settle her baby down. She felt funny, a feeling that she hadn't been able to shake since Jody talked to her earlier. She'd missed something urgent from both him and Iris, but the feeling was beginning to fade a little bit as she walked over to Tess to try and help her calm Paul down. 

But Paul, who was rarely anything but good-natured, would not stop crying. 


	20. Red Hill Mining Town

**Chapter 20: Red Hill Mining Town**

A slow smile spread over Asmodeus 12's cracked features. Nytetrayn didn't care for the look. 

"So then Nytetrayn," Asmodeus addressed the black mechadrake, "you understand what you're saying is a serious matter." 

"Yes." 

"But you won't revoke your words." 

Nytetrayn steeled himself. "No." 

"Well." Asmodeus arched his back slightly. His hands were cupped over his katana hilt, its point planted in the steel catwalk as usual. "Say them once more, please. I want to make sure I heard everything correctly." 

Nyte could feel his hair bristle. "You've made a mistake, Asmodeus." 

"Right right, I thought you said that. Continue." 

"Sending Jody Loy to retrieve Celeste was a bad idea. He hasn't returned or made any effort to contact us. He's failed." 

"Mmhm." Asmodeus scratched at his snout. "That might be. Now what is it that you proposed?" 

"I want to go up above." Nyte fanned his wings out a little. "I want to do what Jody wasn't able to do. What Torrent failed to do. I want to find Celeste, bring her back to Eden, and make sure she stays." 

"And your reasons?" 

"Celeste is my girl. She was taken from me when I was young. I have a right to be concerned about her well-being." 

"I like that," Asmodeus said amiably, raising a finger. " 'I have a right.' Quite commanding. Please, continue." 

Nytetrayn felt like he was wading through a bog of tar. "I plan to take Caillou with me--" 

"Caillou." Asmodeus cut the black mechadrake off and was very suddenly holding the point of his katana to Nyte's stomach. "Celeste's half-brother?" 

"Yes," Nyte said warily, eyeing the katana while choosing his words. 

"Why?" 

"He is, as you mentioned, Celeste's half-brother. My girl doesn't remember me, so she might be startled if I approach her. Caillou, on the other hand, is valid bait. He could implore her help on some family matter, and lure her here ... " 

"And she'll believe that they're related? They don't even look very much alike." 

Nyte subtly placed his paw on the flat of Asmodeus' katana and pushed it down, staring the silver in the face. "They both have Jake's eyes." 

"So they do," Asmodeus said flatly, and fell silent. He let the end of his weapon sag to the ground while he stared, almost bewildered, around Eden, the Great Tree, and its buzzing soldiers. 

He suddenly threw back his head and laughed heartily. "You think I'm an idiot, Nytetrayn. You don't think I can't smell insurrection all over you and the McTreggor boy?" the old silver mechadrake's katana point was poised at Nyte's stomach again, and its point ground ever-so-slightly into the black's scales. His smile gleamed in the dull light of Eden, a broken, yellow picket fence bordering the dead lawn of a lunatic asylum. "But I'll tell you what. Let's make this sporting. Go on above and find Celeste. Caillou stays down here, however. And if you don't successfully retrieve your girl in a week, the little boy that Jake and Ange conceived beyond the blanket will die. Caillou means nothing to me, really. He's a waste of life who didn't inherit any of his father's remotely useful qualities, but he might be useful as a fox is useful in a hunt. One week. How does that sound?" 

Nyte opened his mouth then snapped it shut again. 

"You can't pull out now my friend. I've already started timing. Hurry now." 

* * *

When Nytetrayn returned to Caillou's warren, he found the boy sitting at his table with his arms folded on the top. He looked up when the black mechadrake entered. 

"How'd it go? Do we have permission?" 

"It went all right," Nytetrayn said nervously, combing his claws through his brown hair. He cleared his throat. "Slight change in plans, though. I'm going alone. Oh yeah, and here's the interesting part: If I'm not back with Celeste in a week, Asmodeus is going to gut you." 

"Well, I guess we'd better get ready, and--" Caillou slammed to a halt and gave his head a quick shake. _"What?"_

Nytetrayn sighed. "We both knew this idea came with risks." 

"I figured the worst he could say was 'no.'" 

"With Asmodeus, there is no 'no.' There's 'maybe,' 'I'm too drunk to care,' and 'come here 'till I slit your belly open for bothering me.' I'm afraid he sees you as a plaything." 

"I'm that expendable, huh?" Caillou said sadly. 

Nytetrayn started. He'd been prepared for a whiny complaint by Caillou, and had planned to snap back. But the boy's face was draped with a hangdog expression that Nytetrayn would've recognised as Jake's if he'd ever met the man, and he felt a little guilty. 

"I'm sorry, Caillou." 

Caillou looked down at the table. "I can't help what my mother's done. All I know is that she was a good woman." 

Once again, Nytetrayn prepared to nip at Caillou's self-pity, but something in the boy's voice forbade it. Caillou wasn't thinking about pity. The boy had a fire in his soul and it was slowly gathering strength and flickering behind his strange blue eyes. He looked up. "You go, Nytetrayn. Go get my sister and bring her back here. If we can't make Eden fall from the outside, it'll die on the inside." 

"Well..." Nyte was at a loss for words. He shrugged. "Sure." 

"I've got a job to do." 

* * *

Genesis protected his files with a password when he left the room, but she'd watched him type it often enough. 

"Well." 

Her fingers flew over the keyboard, warming up to their work from her past life. 

"Narcolepsy." 

The mouse arrow zipped over the screen. 

_"Hearing voices?"_

The screen glared like a monster's eye against the darkness in the room. 

"And they treat me like _I'm_ crazy." 

She scanned the file once more. 

"Monroe ... has Monroe seen all this?" 

She leaned back in Genesis' chair like she always belonged in it, and she smiled prettily. "When Genesis asked me to retrieve her file after she came in with her shoulder hurt, I _thought_ something seemed strange about the data. I was right." She looked up at the dark ceiling and whispered, "It's not your fault, Zero. I'll get rid of the daft little tramp and break her hold over you. We'll be together forever, as we were meant to be." Iris stared intently at Genesis' computer with Celeste's file. "If not one way..." 

Iris fingered a weighty box beside her. "100 Scalpel Blades" read easily on its top, even in the dim light. 

"...Then another." 

There was other business to attend to, too. She'd overheard Josh talking to Genesis. Tess and Paul were strong enough now to move off-base sometime in the next few days. The intensity of her dreams had doubled since hearing it. Such lovely dreams ... she couldn't understand why she started to quake uncomfortably at the thought of going to bed. Things were going to be all right soon. But she had to act fast. Her time was almost up. 

* * *

Asmodeus evidently trusted Atticus again, because it was the big copper mechadrake who jabbed his crossbow into Nyte's back as he guided him up the Great Tree. They passed several warrens inhabited by warriors who were off duty, and they sat beside their rooms or leaned against the catwalk railings and rubbernecked at the two mechadrakes briefly before returning to their business of nothing. Nyte glanced at some of them out of the corner of his eye and wondered if they deserved to die. Oh well, business was business. 

At length, the duo came to a long ladder near the very top of the Tree. Atticus grunted and pointed up it with his crossbow. 

"Yeah yeah," Nytetrayn mumbled and started the ascent. The rungs were close together, not crafted for big reploid feet. Atticus had no hope of being able to climb with his fused-flipper fingers, but he watched from below. 

Nyte crested the top of the ladder, which ended at a small opening in the wall. He squirmed through the cubbyhole and dropped a little into a room that was about the size of a standard, bare warren. There was a small door in the wall opposite from Nytetrayn, and a little silver mechadrake sat cross-legged beside it with his katana in his lap. He glanced up at the black with almond-shaped eyes. 

"On your way then, Nytetrayn?" 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"How does it feel to be above ground?" 

Nytetrayn glanced around at the small room. "Am I above ground?" 

"You are. There are lots of little ins and outs to Eden." the silver indicated the door he guarded with his katana. "This is one of them. You'll find yourself in a mining town that dates way back to the Robot Rebellions. The people live in hiding here, but the leader went through an experience that didn't cotton her to robots or reploids, so she was more than willing to let us put an entrance here." 

"Must be an easy door to guard from outsiders," Nytetrayn mumbled thoughtfully. "I've never heard of you or this entrance, which means you have a good record." 

The silver snorted. "I just do my job well. I'm no Hawkmoon 269. On your way now." 

He pushed open the wooden door, which squealed unhappily. Nytetrayn stepped through, and the door rolled quickly shut again behind him. The black mechadrake raised his snout and sniffed the air while glancing about. He was in a house, an old, musty house. He smelled mould and dust and under it all lay faint, cold traces of old lives ... generations come and gone, babies born, grandfathers dead. There was broken, dust-fuzzed furniture pushed into the cobwebby corners and a small window filtered in yellowish-grey sunlight. Nytetrayn looked at that alien slab for a long time. Sunlight. 

Nytetrayn glanced behind him again and noticed how the door he'd stepped through blended in nicely with the dark walls. He was a little amazed at how that one small door led to something as massive as Eden. He'd always harboured a pleasure for secret passages and doors, especially when the ordinary was actually a path to the fantastic. 

There was a taller, more obvious door on the wall opposite to Eden's entrance. Nytetrayn flicked his wings a little and opened it. 

_Light._ As it stabbed him in the eyes and caused him to cringe with a weak snarl, a flash of a memory singed Nyte's brain. He once whipped up a device to emulate sunlight and he'd pointed it directly in Caillou's eyes. The boy hadn't reacted well, and although Nyterayn still thought he'd fussed entirely too much over a small matter, he was beginning to understand his pain. Nytetrayn had never surfaced before. He was used to artificial light, but the raw, blazing power of the sun was something else entirely. He was a reploid, though, and adjusted quickly to his new environment. The black spots were already fading. 

Nyte gave his eyes a final rub. "So I guess my theory was right." 

"Well, we haven't seen any of you in quite a while." 

He turned sharply towards the hail, which was practically at his elbow. He saw the owner of the voice, and his alarm drained almost immediately. Beside him, smiling, was a middle-aged woman with a tattered blue cloak draped over her skinny shoulders. Her face was freckled by the sun and her eyes were pale. Her light hair followed a simple straight line from the top of her head down to the middle of her neck, no deviants and no rebels. She was a woman from the waist up, but below, she was a child. She sat on a frayed wicker chair that was grey with age, and Nyte could see that her legs were twisted and dwarfed. 

Suddenly, there was a stout human at her side, and he glared at Nytetrayn. 

"It's all right," the woman said to her guard. "He won't hurt me. He's with _them._ What's your name, milord?" 

A village. Broken, grown over, peppered with a few scraggly looking humans hunched in the shadows of their past lives, looking mistrustfully at him. In the distance, mountains like dragon's teeth. Nytetrayn could smell blood. The village stank of it. "I'm Nytetrayn." 

"My name's Eli. You're welcome here in Ciam." She smiled sadly. "Of course, you can probably see that there's not much here to offer you." 

The mechadrake gazed around wonderingly. "What ... happened?" 

"So no one in Eden told you?" 

"No." 

"That's good," Eli's smile brightened a little, and her teeth were straight and white. "The less who know about us, the better, I figure." 

"I suppose you're right." 

A shadow crossed Eli's thin face, and the change was so sudden and dramatic, it startled Nytetrayn a little. O Brave New World. "I'll tell you what happened, Sir. Ciam was once a prosperous little mining village. Lots of ore in the mountains. We weren't authorised by the Government to live here, but no one bothered us and we bothered no one in turn. The one winter morning a little over 35 years ago, two demons visited us. One was black and gold, and the other was blood red. I don't know who they were. I don't know what they wanted. They never gave us an explanation, but they ripped the town apart and made sport of it. They--" 

Eli's words started to run together and she gave a great cough as if they'd slid back down her throat and into her lungs. The stout man gently rubbed her back. "Maybe you oughta go inside," he said, but Eli waved him away while she put her other hand over another spray of hacking. "I'll be fine, Dean." 

"I can be on my way if I'm any trouble," Nyte said uncomfortably. 

Eli shook her head. "No, I'm all right. The humid air gets to me. The devils -- they were robots, or at least the black one was. The red one ... I don't know ... he had something in his eyes that was beyond mechanical. I was a little girl at the time and my memory of the event isn't so good, but he stood over me at one point and I still have nightmares of him just towering over me like some great bird about to swallow me whole ... he smiled at me, but it was like a hyena's smile, you know? He cupped my chin under his hand, really gentle-like, and the _smell_ on him, my God ... his hands were covered in blood. So was his hair. He had the most beautiful blonde ponytail, and it was streaked red with the stuff. I was just a little girl like I said, but in that one instant, my thoughts became grown-up ... I wondered just whose blood covered those hands. Which of my neighbours were already killed? I couldn't see my friend Sally in the confusion ... was she dead too, just a smear on those hands? What about my mother, my father? 

"Then I saw my mother behind the animal, and I must've shifted my eyes because the robot looked over his shoulder and saw her, too. He figured out everything immediately, the bastard, and let go of me. 'Go on,' he says, and stepped aside. 'Run to your mother.' He didn't need to give me that offer twice and I just jumped to my feet and _ran._ But then he caught me under the arms, and I could feel myself flying through the air and falling to the ground like a comet. And when I hit, my legs splintered. 

Nytetrayn winced unconsciously. 

Eli chuckled a little despite the horrid recollection, and looked down at her twig-like legs. "No, they never were the same again. I can't remember much else. I blacked out and when I woke up, I remember I was lying on my stomach, which was numb with cold, but my back was burning hot. The village was on fire. Destroyed. Dead bodies everywhere, men women and children. My mother had been smashed to almost a pulp. I never found my father. But there were a few survivors besides me. We've all just lived here since." 

"Here?" Nytetrayn said when he could speak again. He looked around. "You'll poison yourselves with bad memories. Didn't you ever get in contact with authorities? Try to move on with your lives? Tell them there were two lethal robots on the loose?" 

"Some of the people here didn't have a good history with the authorities," Eli said in a low voice. 

"Ah," Nyte said, understanding. "Life on the lam, eh?" 

"Not me. I was born here. My parents ... well, I think they had separate 'histories' before they ran and met each other here. But they were good people." 

"Mm." 

Eli reached up for her shoulders and pulled her blue cloak tighter around her. She stared straight ahead at a small group of humans who sat with their backs against one of the broken houses. Among them was Dean. The large man flicked the stub of a cigarette onto the ground and lifted the toe of his boot a little to grind it to splinters before he turned his hawklike eyes back on Eli. "Dean and some of the older folks here believe those robots came 'cause their pasts caught up with them," Eli said. "They're pretty quiet ... I guess they think a lot about the children who died on their account. Some of them ran away from the bad memories, but some have also stayed to take care of me and other kids who were injured in the attack." 

"I doubt those robots attacked because of the nature of the people who lived here," Nytetrayn said slowly, staring with Eli at the humans in the shadows. "It was probably, as you mentioned before, sport." 

Eli shifted the wind of the conversation. "Don't worry much about us. The Inheritors make sure we're all right." 

"I would think they'd at least rebuild this place for you, get you some medical attention for your legs." 

Eli shrugged. "I just like their agenda. Get rid of robots and those 'reploid' things. I've seen a reploid or two ... sometimes they come by and look around, but it's easy enough to hide. They have the same eyes as that red monster who attacked me. Just last April there was a small platoon of them led by a human girl. I don't know what they wanted. They left us alone, which is good. We were hiding in that house you came out of, and Dean was like a wall between me and the door. I'm sure he would've flown at anything that came through it and ripped it apart with his bare hands." 

"You've definitely had a bad experience," Nytetrayn nodded. "You think that getting rid of robots and reploids and the like will cure the world of its ills?" 

"I don't know about the world and its ills. All I know is that I still have dreams about my mother's face being gone, and of her blood steaming in the snow." Eli's tone became softer. "Maybe you should be on your way, milord. I've kept you here long enough with my chatter." 

"Yeah, I've got something to do," Nyte said, grimly recalling his challenge. "Do you know anything about the Maverick Hunters or their Headquarters?" 

"Never heard of 'em. We don't get much contact from the outside world, and the people in Eden don't tell us a whole bunch." 

"Are there any cities nearabouts?" 

"Fairly large one that I know of about 130 clicks north of here. Few small towns in between." 

"As good a place to start as any, I guess," Nyte nodded. "So long Eli. Nice talking to you. Are you sure you don't want me to ... help you somehow?" 

Eli's smile was kindly again. "How do you figure to help me?" 

"I don't know. I wish I could do something." 

"You're the first out of Eden to offer. Thank you, but we've been getting by all right for now. We'll keep trudging. I have been feeling out of sorts lately, though. Don't tell Dean, he'll go orangutan with worry. But it's not so much me as it is the air around me ... like things are going to go bad soon, you know?" 

"I think so," Nyte said softly. "Take care." They looked at each other for several seconds before the black mechadrake slowly turned and started north into the sprawling, empty grassland. he could feel Dean's eyes bore into his back until the last crumbling house was behind him. 

* * *

"You're up late." 

X surfaced from his book and glanced up. Celeste looked down at him with a cup of coffee in her hand. The HQ's mess hall was empty at this hour. "So I am. So are you." 

"Mind if I sit up with you, fellow nighthawk?" 

"It's a free country," X said, bending back over his book. "Thanks to us." 

Celeste elbowed X's helmet out of the way and took a sip of coffee. She sat very still except when she raised her arm for another sip. 

She reminded X of a lark drinking on the edge of a birdbath. He felt a little nervous and couldn't concentrate. "Why are you up?" 

"Shoulder's bothering me some." 

"Coffee's an excellent drink to have before bed." 

"Ha ha. Why do you read in the mess hall? You have a room." 

"I don't know. I like to read in here. Always have." He looked at her hopefully. "Do you have any favourite books?" 

"I don't read much." 

"Oh." X was a little disappointed. "If your shoulder is bothering you, maybe Genesis can help." 

Celeste shrugged and looked down into her coffee. "Maybe I'll go in a few minutes. I just want to sit here for now. Go on with your book." 

X did, but he found himself re-reading the same paragraph over and over. His eyes consumed the words, but his mind wasn't processing them. He felt distracted. 

"You say something?" 

X looked up. "No," he said a little more irritably than he meant to. "I didn't say anything." 

Celeste frowned. "I thought you said my name." 

"No." 

"Well, someone did." 

"You should really get some sleep," X suggested. "You look like you have a sleep debt you wouldn't be able to catch up to if you lived to be 200." 

Celeste put down her cup of coffee. "I'll go see Genesis right now. Maybe he can hit me over the head with a mallet or something and I won't have to worry about not sleeping." 

"Ever again." 

"I wish." 

* * *

_Damn it. I'm not getting through to her._

Nytetrayn cut himself off from Celeste and continued to trudge north, doused in the silver blue light of the sickle moon. Nytetrayn glanced at his shadow on the right and it went on forever, black and silent. It made him feel grand. 

_Why am I walking, anyway?_

Eden never provided him ample room to spread his wings, so the mechadrake was used to life on the hoof. He hesitantly unfurled his wings and the gentle, warm wind batted them playfully, but he curled them around his body instead. He wasn't in any great rush to get anywhere; he had no idea how he was going to nab Celeste. She wouldn't respond to his mindspeak. Maybe he needed to be closer? It'd been a long time since he'd talked to her. He was out of practise. 

_I've got a time limit. Caillou._

Why did he care so much about Caillou? When he'd said he'd turn the boy over to lift any suspicion off himself, he'd meant it. But it seemed Nytetrayn admired the way Caillou put a stony face up against Eden. It was difficult for him. It'd be one matter if he only had to endure heckling; as it was, the Inheritors completely ignored his existence, which was far, far worse. If only he didn't look so unusual! Those blue eyes against his dark skin ... Nytetrayn recalled the times he'd sat in with some of Eden's other Mechadrakes while they chatted about past events (no dragon can resist gossip), including what had occurred between Jake and Ange. Just another chapter in Eden's long history, and the forgotten sequel moped around Eden itself, in the flesh. It wasn't as if forbidden storybook love was a new thing in the underground dwelling; it was just that in past occurrences, Asmodeus had immediately slammed the storybook chapter shut directly on the soft spot of any unwanted products. Caillou was different because he had been allowed to live (for now), although for all Eden cared about him, he may as well be in the cold ground. 

Nytetrayn stood still and let the long, dry grass prick at his ankles as it rolled like a gold wave in the wind. He wanted to save Caillou because he simply wanted to make Asmodeus regret ever letting the boy live. He wanted Asmodeus to be humiliated through defeat by his own mistake. 

Still a very self-serving reason to save the young McTreggor, and Nytetrayn felt a little relieved at that. _Thought I was going soft._

But then he remembered sitting up with the boy at all hours of the night, helping him back to his room after Atticus had slashed his leg open with his tusk, telling him about his dad and his sister while trying to get the blood running back into his leg again ... and the look in his eyes when he found out that his life depended on Nytetrayn. 

_Of course he thinks he's expendable. I never gave him much reason to think otherwise. And now I've got my freedom, but he's got a stay of execution that's only valid if I go back for him in a week. God, I'd be scared green if I were him, too._

Except Caillou wasn't scared. He was angry, he was lonely, he was slowly being pushed to the edge, but he wasn't scared. 

Nytetrayn shrugged and shuffled on. 

* * *

The Medical Unit was dark, except for a thin stripe of light that speared from the open washroom door and lay itself across the floor and ran up Genesis' desk. Celeste looked at the desk; it was empty, but the computer monitor on top of it was on and it bathed the back of Gen's chair with a radiant glow. Celeste frowned. If the lights were off, Genesis wasn't here. She put her hand against the wall and listened to the deep breathing of the patients and the sound of cloth rubbing together as some rolled over in their sleep and sighed. 

_Genesis isn't here,_ she told herself again, but moved in a few steps deeper. 

_Genesis isn't here!_ something inside her insisted, but she ran her hand along the wall as she traveled further. Her heartbeat quickened, her instincts were aroused. Something was wrong. 

In the dark, she heard baby Paul start to fuss, and a voice that wasn't Tess' implored him gently to calm down. She turned the corner into the main ward, and there was Iris standing in a patch of moonlight, cradling Paul. The baby was wrapped in a pink blanket and it looked like -- 

_God, is Iris about to steal him?_

Celeste cleared her throat. 

Iris looked up and jumped. "Celeste!" she said a little louder than she obviously meant to, because she stole a quick glance at Tess. But Tess just rolled over and kept snoring away. 

Iris' surprise then thawed into a smile. A glad smile. She held Paul against her shoulder, joggling him a little. Paul calmed down again and burbled to himself. The Yin of the most powerful fighting machine ever created looked again at Celeste and her eyes glittered in the barren light of the moon. 

"Well, Celeste," she said quietly, her smile never wavering. "Do you still believe that reploids from beyond the grave shouldn't go near children?" 

"What're you up to, Iris?" Celeste's hand moved on its own to her lightsabre sheath and twitched uncomfortably when it found no hilt strapped to her regular citizen's garb of denim shorts and a white T-shirt. 

Iris didn't miss the movement. Her body swivelled to put Paul back in his crib, but her eyes didn't leave Celeste's. "The baby was crying. I was just calming him down so that Tess could keep sleeping. She needs rest." 

"I've been in here for a few minutes, and I didn't hear Paul cry. Didn't Tess tell you to stay away from him?" 

Iris' eyes hardened. She didn't stop smiling. She took a step closer to Celeste. 

"...lovely in the moonlight. I can see why you hold a spell over him." 

Celeste took a step back, but her body tensed. "...Iris?" 

"But by the time I'm finished, he won't even be able to stand looking at you." 

Waist-length brown hair, silver moonlight, and aqua-green surgical scrubs blended into one discordant comet as Iris flew at Celeste. 


	21. Rats

**TRIP THROUGH YOUR WIRES**  
**Chapter 21: Rats**

Baby Paul wasn't a baby anymore. He was all growed up and he was a joke. His skin was stretched over his delicate bones as taut as a deer pelt over a tribal drum. His ragged blonde hair flopped over in his eyes, and he flipped his mop back with a reflexive jerk of his head as he looked at Tess and smiled. His baby teeth were insignificant chips in his swollen gums. Paul opened his arms to his mother. 

Tess took a step back. "I can't hug you," she said in a disgusted voice. "You'll break." 

Paul slowly dropped his arms and his smile. Behind him, Zero whistled and waved a stick in the air. Paul suddenly brightened and loped after the stick as the red Reploid threw it. Beside Zero, Iris clapped her hands and laughed. The pretty brunette looked at Tess and said something, but her voice sounded like pieces of metal hitting a hard floor. 

"Iris -- what?" 

Now Zero turned and spoke to Tess: _"Oh sweet Christ, she's got a scalpel!"_

Tess opened her eyes, yanked rudely from her dream. Celeste's head suddenly slammed down next to her own, and she yelped. 

Iris had Celeste pinned to Tess' bed, collaring the Huntress with one of her large, slender hands. Celeste clawed and cursed, her eyes wild like a war-horse's. She had no weapon. Iris wasn't equipped for fighting, but in a brawl between an unarmed human female and a reploid of any make, one side has an obvious advantage. 

But Tess didn't panic until she saw Iris' scalpel flash down at Celeste like silver fire. 

Celeste jerked her head, and the blade licked her earlobe. Blood flowered black on Tess' white sheets. 

"Can't keep that up forever," Iris hissed, lowering herself until her face nearly touched Celeste's. She unsheathed the weapon from the mattress and pressed it against the Huntresses' gunshot pulse. "Slit your miserable throat like your father's. Fitting end. You should thank me." 

For years after that night, admiring humans would gather around Tess and ask her what it was like to kick Iris in the head with her bare feet. Tess told them that it was like kicking an iron ball wrapped in foam rubber; there was a definite satisfaction to it, even if your efforts didn't go too far. 

All of Tess' strength went into the blow. Iris wasn't hurt, but it was enough to make her stumble sideways a little bit and cry out in surprise. Her grip on Celeste's neck loosened, and the human slithered out of the clutch. She stared at Iris wide-eyed for a second before she turned and ran towards the door, reaching out a hand to grab something off Genesis' desk as she passed. A waterfall of paperwork slid to the floor, and the mess crackled and tore under Iris' boots as she galloped after her quarry. 

Tess looked wildly at her fellow patients, who were frozen with horrified looks on their faces, deer gone tharn. "Somebody do something!" she cried. 

The Hunter next to her swallowed. Only his neck and mouth were alive. "You ever try to break up a fight between two females before, Garret?" he asked shakily. "You're better off separating two tigers." 

"Then someone get Genesis!" 

"Can't," said the Hunter. "Celeste's blocking the door." 

"You're telling me this room has _one exit?_ Isn't that illegal?" 

"I don't bloody know!" the Hunter barked. "Your damnable suggestions oughta be illegal!" He suddenly ducked his head. "Sorry." 

Tess' hand flew to her forehead. "Blocking the door!" she said in stunned realisation. "What's that fool of a girl doing?" 

The door to the Infirmary was open, but Celeste had her back to it. No, she was _filling_ it, head lowered, legs set firmly, the fingers on her left hand gripping the doorframe like white claws. Iris slowed her charge a little in caution, but then she leaped, her silver fang bared. 

There was a percussive banging sound, and Iris suddenly reeled back a little, clutching the side of her face where Celeste had walloped her with the steel Emergency First Aid kit from Genesis' desk. The human girl was panting hard through her crocodile-grimace, still clutching the square box which now had a bit of black blood spattered across one corner. Tess could see something malicious light up Celeste's face, as if some demon living in her brain had put a hellish lamp behind the window of her eye. Tess only had a second to be startled before Celeste jumped at Iris, hammering her repeatedly across the face with the kit. Iris jerked back with each assault. The noise was tremendous. 

Paul was howling. Tess' body moved automatically to pick up her baby and press him to her shoulder; her head never turned from the fight. When Iris gave a small bleat of terror and broke away from Celeste's barrage, the human girl snarled and gave chase, shoving over Paul's cradle without a glance, which had been occupied only seconds before. Blankets and pillows spilled hard out of the crib like guts. 

"Oh God," Tess said weakly, looking at the ruin. "Celeste!" 

Iris had retreated to the furthest corner of the Infirmary, where she curled up and quaked, her arms drawn up in a protective pose. Celeste still advanced. 

"Leave her alone, McTreggor!" the Hunter beside Tess pleaded. "She's done!" But the one closest to Iris' retreat suddenly howled, "Watch out!" 

Iris uncoiled and leaped at Celeste, who instantly raised an arm in defence. The scalpel traced a red arc, and a flap of bloody skin bobbed there like a slack lip. 

"Damn," one of the Hunters said in awe. Celeste didn't even look at her wound. When Iris stabbed again, Celeste was quicker and shielded herself with the First Aid kit, which received a deep puncture. Metal crumpled around its wound, and the scalpel was stuck. 

Iris tried to pull her weapon out of the kit, but she wasn't prepared when Celeste shoved it against her. Iris lost her footing and giggled back a few steps, reflexively grabbing the kit as Celeste aimed a high kick to her right hand. The metal box jumped away from the reploid and skidded across the floor, sliding into the shadows under a cot with the scalpel still embedded in it. Iris was jarred and missed the box's journey. She made a small sound and looked around for her weapon, but saw nothing. Celeste watched her, lifting her foot off the floor a little. 

"She's hurt herself with that kick," Tess began to tell the Hunter beside her, but his bed was empty. She didn't have time to wonder; Celeste and Iris were suddenly entangled again. 

Celeste fought like some mustang-cougar cross, punching rapidly around the reploid's neck, shoulders and face when she seemed steady, clawing shallow but visible furrows on Iris' cheeks whenever her rage seemed to spike suddenly. Thick, red lightning bolts of blood coursed down her injured arm and flecked Iris with every punch. She was on overdrive; her eyes were starting to glaze. Iris was empowered by the knowledge that her opponent was losing blood, and the fight along with it. Her punches were slower, but heavy and powerful. A few landed at the sides of Celeste's head, and the bruises were already spreading on her jaw line like shadows. The girl was still swiping at Iris, but she was starting to miss and looked disoriented, shaking her head to clear it. 

Iris stopped punching when Celeste started to sway dizzily. She walked up to the Huntress and stared at her for a few seconds, the angry expression on her face smoothing to something almost pitying. Iris placed one hand on the top of Celeste's head. "You're nothing," she said in soothing tones. "Nothing. You're not good enough for him, but it's not your fault. You can't help who you are. You can't help _what_ you are." Iris squatted a little and looked Celeste in the eyes, speaking softly so that only the Huntress could hear her. "I know everything about you. I know what happened to you after your father died, and what you did. I know you're sorry about it now, but your soul is still stained. A biting dog will bite again--" 

Celeste's fist slammed into Iris' blue eye. Something in her hand snapped like a small twig, and she exclaimed with pain, but didn't stop her assault. She tackled Iris, who caught Celeste by the shoulders and heaved her backwards with surprising force. Celeste's feet actually left the ground for a second. She landed hard on her side, and she could feel something in her shoulder pulling apart like wet pillow seams. Celeste rolled on the linoleum and came to a stop against a pair of maroon reploid boots. She raised her head slowly. 

Genesis looked back down at her, expressionless. "Seems I missed a good one, didn't I?" 

"I think my stitches might've come apart," the Huntress said dully. 

* * *

Genesis helped Celeste to a nearby bed. She tried to lie on her front so that the re-opened wound on her back wouldn't stain the Infirmary's sheets, but she forgot about her weeping arm. Genesis caught sight of it and hollered. 

"I forgot about it," Celeste said. "I don't feel any pain right now." 

"That'll change, I promise you." Genesis said. "You may as well just relax. I've been meaning to throw out this particular set anyway. A fellow died on this bed three weeks ago, and I haven't been able to get the smell of the death out of it." 

Celeste looked around her apprehensively. 

"What happened here?" Genesis said, turning to the rest of the patients in the Infirmary, all wide-awake now. Iris brooded by the windows, her head down and her hands folded in front of her. The fox motioned to the Hunter beside Tess, who'd gone missing halfway through the fight. "Stevens here said there was a rumble, and he came to get me. I'd been away from my desk for a bit, but of course, nothing can stay quiet and still at night in this damn Unit. It's against God's laws. Stevens said someone had a--" 

"A scalpel," Tess said instantly. "When I woke up, Iris was about to stab Celeste with one." 

Iris shot Tess a hurt look. 

Tess felt the pinch, and looked sideways at the reploid. "I can't say who started things," she said. "I was asleep. But I guess Celeste fought back in self-defence." 

Genesis said, "Iris? Why don't you tell us your side of the story?" 

Iris looked back down at the floor and mumbled, "I want to speak to Monroe." 

Celeste looked at Iris sharply. 

"I think you'd best do just that," Genesis said slowly. "Celeste? How about you?" 

Celeste didn't look away. "I'll speak to Monroe, too." 

Genesis grimaced as if an evil smell were wafting by, but he stepped back around the corner to his desk and the ward was silent enough for everyone to hear his fingers clatter across his number pad as he keyed in the sequence to summon Monroe. 

"You're in trouble, Celeste," Iris said emotionlessly. 

"Oh, keep your cry-hole shut," Tess said in an icy voice. "Celeste's half Irish, but what's _your_ excuse for being two chips short of a 386?" 

Pain flew across Iris' face like a dark bird and was gone again just as suddenly. "I thought you understood me at least a little, _Auntie_ Tess." 

"That's why you scare the hell out of me, you frothing-mad walking rainbow." Tess shook her head and mumbled something to herself that sounded like, "Reploids who dream like that oughta be put back in the junkyard..." 

Celeste wrapped a pillowcase around her arm wound and said nothing. The cloth sucked the blood up thirstily. 

Genesis returned to the patients. "Monroe is coming, and he's pissed. His beauty sleep's been disturbed over a catfight, Heaven forefend." The fox stuck his tongue out a little. "I'm so happy he takes this establishment as seriously as his father." 

Monroe arrived twenty minutes later, cranky and seedy-eyed, but dressed and combed. Genesis looked up from inspecting Celeste's slashed arm. "Thanks for coming, Monroe. I'm sorry to wake you up, but what can I say, you're a real lady killer." he pointed at Celeste, then Iris. "They want personal interviews." 

Monroe hitched up his too-loose jeans. "What is it you two want?" he asked Iris in a black voice. "Why were you and McTreggor fighting at this hour?" 

Stevens mumbled something off-colour about a monthly visitor. Everyone in the ward stared at him, and his ears turned pink at the cold silence. "I didn't think you'd all hear that." 

"There are some neglected roach traps that'll need attention around the HQ tomorrow, Stevens," Monroe said dryly. "McTreggor? Why don't you start?" 

Celeste cleared her throat and scratched at one of her bruises. "Couldn't sleep because my shoulder -- I'd had a small training accident and needed stitches -- so I came to see Genesis. He wasn't here, but Iris was beside Tess' bed there," the Huntress drew in her breath sharply when Genesis stole up beside her, peeled off her sopping bandage, and rubbed the wound with antiseptic. "Ow, damn. Iris ... she had Tess' baby in her arms. I asked her what she was doing, 'cause Tess already told her once to stay away from Paul." 

"Is that true?" Monroe asked Tess. 

"Yes," Tess responded. 

Celeste continued. "Well, Iris gave me this look, like she was sizing me up. She saw I didn't have any weapons, and said she was going to carve me." 

"And did she?" 

Celeste held up her arm stiffly. "She had a scalpel." 

Monroe seemed much less agitated at being woken up now. He spoke clearly and calmly, but his body was rigid. "Iris?" 

Iris stood up straighter. "Sir?" 

"Iris, due to the ... incomplete nature of your resurrection, you were to strictly follow Genesis' orders for the time being. I understand you worked well, he gave you more complicated tasks, and you rose to the challenge well. But I also know full well that you still weren't to interact with the patients, unless given a specific job." 

Beside Celeste, Genesis threaded catgut through a curved needle and mumbled in a very soft breath, "Not nearly as out of things as he lets on. Or else he smells the threat hanging over us and is finally taking it seriously." 

"That's true, sir," Iris said. 

"Then why did you go near Garret's baby?" 

The female reploid swallowed. "He was ... he was upset. I couldn't ignore him. I wanted to calm him down." 

"I'm sure Garret is perfectly capable of taking care of her own." 

"Mrs Garret has been ill. I figured she needed the rest." 

Monroe looked at Tess. 

"I've been feeling better," Tess said stoutly. "Genesis just wanted to keep an eye on me because births can come with all sorts of side effects these days, thanks to us clever humans playing with phallic nuclear toys all those years back. I got weak after I had Paul, and he was worried. But it's almost past, and I'm definitely capable of taking care of my own son, thank you. It never hurts a baby to cry for ten minutes or so." 

"I can't ignore him," Iris said in a near-whisper. 

"The more important issue," Monroe interrupted, "is the attack. Why did you attack McTreggor?" 

Iris lifted her chin. "She's a danger, sir." 

Cain's son looked puzzled. "Danger?" 

"A danger to herself and others. She looked ready to charge me. I merely took precautions." 

Genesis slowly looked away from Celeste's wound, stood up, and clenched his fist. His needle dangled and swayed like a spider at the end of the suture. "She didn't," he half-growled, half-whined through his bared teeth. _"She wouldn't,_ the little blank-eyed weasel..." 

Iris crossed her arms over her chest. "Celeste is not mentally sound." 

Genesis flung his needle aside and it bounced on the floor with a quiet _ping,_ dissatisfying against the fox's roar. "Who gave you permission to go through the patient records, you vapid HALF-WIT?" 

Iris cringed, but she didn't wilt. "You -- you left them unlocked!" 

"'Left them unlocked,' my tufted ass!" Genesis started towards his assistant. "You hacked them." 

"They were unlocked!" Iris persisted in an anguished voice, and threw her arms up to protect herself from the advance. "You said -- said -- I was to learn what I can, to have access to your materials as long as I didn't interfere with the patients themselves. Since the patients' files were accessible, I thought I was to study them. I took initiative!" 

"I'll bloody well _give_ you initiative!" 

"Genesis!" Monroe barked. "Ease off!" 

Genesis, now in front of Iris, shook with rage, but he restrained. 

"Step away from her." 

The fox did as he was told, his ears laid back flat on his head. Iris lowered her hands a little and looked at him. 

"Unlocked," she tested softly. 

Genesis snarled at the floor. 

Celeste's wounds silently bled. 

Paul hiccupped and started to cry. 

Monroe looked at them all and muttered a curse in his father's name. 

* * *

Scouting missions, Zero reflected, were once cake and pie. Well, they still were ... he was forced to swallow too many of them at once, and now they made him sick. X was right about him. He was secretly wishing for a war, for something tangible to strike at, for something he didn't have to flush out of sour shadows. 

The smell of the city didn't help. The concrete animal was too crowded, too saturated with exhaust, coffee and sweat during the day to shed any of its weariness after the sun went down. Still, the city was an impressive sight at night. The windows of the huge, stacked buildings winked like the eyes of jungle animals. It was very early in the morning, so the narrow sidewalks were mostly open to Zero's small platoon, and only a whisper of traffic was on the streets. 

Zero stopped and looked behind him. "How're you feeling, Cass?" 

The huge badger reploid caught up to his friend quickly, and the two caught their breath beside an alley. Cass was doing much better since he'd been infected by Blake's "flu" virus, but he was still a little sluggish. He looked down at Zero with mournful eyes. "I want to go back to my pub." 

"I'm sorry, Cass," Zero said sincerely. "I'm trying to go easy on you. It wasn't my idea to bring you scouting." 

"I know." Cass fingered his mace. "I blame Lifesaver. He insists that I get out and move around whenever I can." 

Zero said, "It makes sense, I guess. Humans recovering from a virus get the same advice." 

"Yeah, well, I'm not a human." Cass pointed into the alley beside him, where two teenagers were entwined in each other. The badger picked up a trash can lid discarded near the alley's entrance, and bashed it with his mace. The teens untangled and ran further into the darkness. 

Zero watched them. "Aw, Cass, they weren't hurting anything." 

Cass tossed the lid back into the alley and shrugged. A choked scream flew back at them from the dark. 

"Cass!" Zero cried in alarm. "Did you hit them?" 

Cass rubbed his head. "Oh Jeez, I hope not." 

The scream came again, and ended suddenly with a cold, gurgling sound. 

Zero immediately chased after the cry, and Cass tailed him along with the rest of the Hunters. The path was narrow, and the light was bad, making it hard even for Cass and Zero to see too far. They jostled into walls and each other, creating an unfortunate racket. 

Something was definitely in the alley with them, something large, breathing heavily, and, if Zero's ears weren't playing tricks on him, leaping from wall to wall -- 

"Stop!" Zero hissed, barring his Hunters with his arm. The party slowed and listened hard against the blackness. 

"Anything?" Cass breathed. 

"It was something, all right," Zero murmured after a long time. "It got away quick. Flashlight?" 

Cass handed it to him, and Zero turned it on, burning away a little of the dark. The red reploid swept the beam onto the greasy ground, and a rat squealed, frozen by the light. 

"Oh Lord preserve us," one of the human Hunters warbled in a thick voice. 

"Scared of a rat?" Cass snorted back to the Rookie. "You may as well go home and crawl back into your mother." 

"N-no. Look at it." 

"Blood," Zero said immediately. 

The rat's bullet-shaped muzzle was slick and red. It trembled fiercely, and a tiny bubble of blood burst from one of its pinprick nostrils. 

Nobody said anything. The vermin suddenly bounded away, and the flashlight followed it as it returned to its family, already burrowed deep in the slashed neck of the teenage girl. 

The Hunters' rat scrambled up onto the shoulders of the boy, draped limply over his lover and missing his head. The creature squealed again, seemingly unhappy over being watched while it ate. 

Silently, moving only his fingers, Zero extinguished the light. 


	22. Morning is Here

**Chapter 22: Morning Is Here**

Dawn arrived, but it was grey and cool. Scattered drops of rain pecked randomly at the large window of Monroe Cain's office. Hawkmoon 269 sat in Cain's chair in front of the window, and her scales were almost dazzling against the drab picture outdoors. 

Celeste always noted that it was a security hazard to have the leader of MHHQ parked in front of that window, such a tempting target for traitors and snipers. She involuntarily drudged up the same notion again when she was ushered into Cain's office by a nondescript Reploid. Maybe the glass was bulletproof? Celeste didn't know, and she knew that she currently wasn't in a position to ask. 

Hawkmoon turned her sightless eyes in Celeste's direction when the young Huntress entered. The nostrils on her tapered snout twitched. "McTreggor?" 

"Yes." 

"I smell blood. You're wounded." 

"Genesis took care of me," Celeste said even though the Mechadrake's voice didn't carry a note of compassion. 

"Sit down, if you want. Monroe will be here soon." 

Celeste seated herself at the chair across from Monroe's desk. The chair was small and looked suitably like a timid, subordinate animal grovelling in the grand presence of Monroe's high-backed leather monster. The office was silent, and the weather outside made up its mind. Large drops of rain spattered evenly against the pane. A patchwork of pain throbbed across Celeste's face, jaw, and shoulders. 

"You're temperamental," Hawkmoon suddenly said. "But nowhere near as impressive as your sire in the follow-through. I don't even see what the big fuss is over you." 

"What--" Celeste started, but Hawkmoon swiftly rose to her feet when Monroe suddenly entered the office. Celeste clumsily followed, her wounds and pride stinging. A blind Mechadrake beat her in protocol. 

"It's all right, McTreggor," Cain's son said in a tired voice as he shooed Hawkmoon away from his seat. "Sit down. You're banged up." 

Celeste obeyed, eyeing the thick folder tucked under Monroe's arm. He didn't sound angry. That relieved her a little. 

Monroe slapped the folder down on his desk and leaned on his palms and stared down at the folder. He suddenly seemed pathetically young, with his skinny torso slung between the knobbly shoulders that stuck so sharply out of his back. 

"Seems you've kept some secrets, McTreggor," he said, sitting down at last with a deep sigh. 

Celeste didn't respond. 

"The narcolepsy and recurring nightmares are bad enough, especially since both, according to the data from your sessions with Genesis, appear to be getting worse. Is that true?" 

"Yes," Celeste said. No point in lying now. 

Monroe's fist came down on the desk. Celeste jumped, then hated herself for it. 

"You're the captain of a Unit!" the boy roared. "What you -- and Genesis! -- have done here is so irresponsible, it knocks my head right off. You could've had an ... an 'episode' during a crucial battle, and your headless troops would literally have _become_ headless, thanks to some crazed Maverick. We would've found out too late that you're afflicted. I'm sure your mother would love us for _that._" 

Celeste's insides quaked at the mention of her mother. 

"Back to your mother is where I should send you," Monroe said with relish when he saw that he'd touched a scabby wound. "Stripped of your rank and title. And I _will_ send you packing unless..." He rubbed a finger across the bottom of his nose and spoke in a softer voice. "If I receive your cooperation in a small matter, I might ... keep you." 

Celeste, lost in the mild terror of having to go home to her mother, suddenly surfaced and noticed that Hawkmoon was gone. The door was closed. Real panic beat around her heart. "You want--" 

"Your cooperation," Monroe said, looking down at his fingers. 

"What?" Celeste blurted. 

Monroe looked up at her curiously. "I was going to ask you about your Mindspeak." 

_"Oh."_ Celeste settled back in her chair, the frantic red flush draining from her face. She felt stupid for putting herself on such a pedestal. Monroe was about as sexually charged as an amoeba. 

"Are you all right? You look kind of waxy." 

"Fine," Celeste said stoutly. 

Monroe asked, "Maybe you'd like to tell me why you hear voices?" 

Mindspeak wasn't just about 'hearing voices,' Celeste corrected Monroe in her head. But the less said, the better. "I don't know why, sir." 

"But according to your statements, this affliction has been in your family before." 

Damn it. "Yes, sir." 

"Namely, your father," Monroe mused while he shuffled through his papers, "who got killed. No one's sure why he tried to take down Torrent Leviathan by himself, but this does explain a lot." He looked up at Celeste. "Do you think the two incidents are related?" 

"I don't know, sir." 

"You're not being very cooperative." 

"I'm telling you all I know," Celeste said in a dry voice. "This affliction ... 'Mindspeak ... it became a part of my life when I was 16. It's been very dominant since then. The voices I hear are usually benign. In other instances..." Celeste cleared her throat. "It hasn't been easy." 

"And you didn't tell anyone about this?" 

"Genesis sort of found out by accident and forced it out of me," the Huntress said warily. She'd told the fox about everything that Mindspeak brought with it -- the adrenaline surges, the shared emotions that could be used tenderly or maliciously -- but she wasn't sure how much of their conversations had been physically recorded and were at Monroe's disposal. "What you've got in front of you is all I know." 

"It's not much," Monroe admitted, shifting again through his folder. "But I'd like to change that. This is where your 'cooperation' comes in. Work with me, and you can remain with the Hunters -- provided we can prove it won't be hazardous to your health." 

Celeste stiffened. She almost missed Monroe's brief wink. 

"Refuse and, well, I just can't in good conscience keep you here. Besides, it might be a bit _harder_ to keep the Hunters in the Infirmary quiet about what they heard Iris say about your hearing voices and all. That's the kind of rumour that could cause a Unit's respect for its Captain to slip." Monroe propped his chin in his hand and drummed the end of a pencil on the folder. "Well?" 

Celeste's brain felt dull and numb. "What's your proposal?" 

"I did some research on your background, McTreggor. That's why I didn't call on you until this morning. You were born not too far from here, in a hospital called Saint Teresa's." 

Celeste nodded. 

"You returned to the same hospital when you were four. Your father brought you. You were dangerously sick, quite near death." 

"Ye--" Celeste stopped her automatic response and furrowed her brow. "What? What're you talking about?" 

Monroe leafed through his folder and handed the Huntress a single sheet of paper. Celeste glanced over it. An Admittance Form for Saint Teresa's Hospital, e-mailed to Monroe. To Be Used in the Strictest of Confidentiality. 

> Patient: Celeste Siobhan McTreggor.  
Gender: Female.  
Age: 4.  
Date of Arrival: (chickenscratch)  
Date of Discharge: N/A  
Description of injury or illness: _Patient was admitted with temperature of 106 F. Appears to be suffering from intense muscular pain and spasms. Frequent loss of consciousness and difficulty breathing._  
Treatment Recommended, if Any: _Did not respond to any medications. Recommend that the patient stay in the hospital for observation._  
Name of Doctor: (more chickenscratch)  
Name and Signature of Patient's Parent(s) or Guardian(s): Jacob McTreggor.

And there was her father's signature with its distinctive left-leaning loops and flourishes, which always proved impossible for Celeste to imitate properly on bad tests and report cards during her grade school years. She lowered the paper slowly. 

"I don' t remember any of this." 

"You were only four," Monroe said half in excuse. "Do you doubt the authenticity of the document?" 

"No," Celeste said softly. She added after a pause, "That's my father's signature. And my middle name is there, which nobody ever used but him. It was my great-grandmother's name, and my mother hated it." 

"Well, it _is_ unusual," Monroe returned mildly. "How is it even supposed to be pronounced?" 

"Shivon," Celeste said distractedly. She was thinking hard. No, the document wasn't a fake but not just because of a little-known middle name, or because of her father's signature. Her mother was still at large like the great meandering sacred cow she was, and knew her daughter's full name. She might've told some one. Her father's signature was unusual, but still forgeable by someone with skill. She knew the document was legitimate because ... because why? Because dreams and half-memories about that bout of sickness were randomised in her brain, and with the paper in her hand, she could feel her mind start to defragment. It was all part of a bigger picture. She'd fallen. Twice. And Jody had been there. Twice. Something else attached itself to the forming puzzle, something about the cold and, for some reason, vanilla ice cream ... 

And the smoky smell of her father as he lifted her up easily from the strange sheets of Saint Teresa's and whisked her out the door. Doctors and nurses yelling in protest, making her head hurt, then the delightful cool and dark of the outdoors. Looking up at the stars that were close enough to claim her, but Jake's head silhouetted them and his breath puffed out in white gasps. She wanted to touch his face, reassure herself that he was there, but she didn't have the strength to lift her arms. She knew she was safe though, knew that her dad would never surrender her again -- 

"Siobhan," Monroe chuckled slowly. "That sounds kind of pretty. Well, McTreggor. You'll notice two things about that form. The doctor's name, and the fact that the date of your discharge from the hospital is blank." 

"I noticed that about the Discharge box, but I can't read the doctor's name." 

"Your father ran out of the hospital with you," Monroe told her, and a piece of her memory fit together with a thud she could almost feel. "Thus, you were never officially let go. As for the name, sorry, it came out a little incomprehensible on the form, but it says Dr Kline. He still works at St Teresa's. I had a talk with him. He remembers you." 

"He does?" 

Monroe shrugged. "You were pretty bad off. He's amazed you're alive. He's here, waiting outside the office." 

Celeste bristled with suspicion. Something about the doctor's name was dark in her head. "Why?" 

"It has to do with my proposal ... that is, if you want to keep working here." Monroe's voice pulled Celeste's attitude down like a leash on an unruly dog. He stood up and pulled open his office door. "We'll both explain what we want from you." 

Dr Kline walked in and smiled warmly, his hands linked behind his back. "Hello, Celeste. It's nice to see you again." 

Celeste took one look at the doctor and could suddenly remember every detail about those hands, hidden out of sight though they were. Light swept over her, and her reaction was automatic, bursting to the surface passionately after waiting, coiled for twenty years in a corner. With a desperate cry, she snatched a heavy paperweight off Monroe's desk and flung it at Kline.

* * *

Zero didn't have to examine the corpses for more than a second before he knew that there was no hope whatsoever. For all the miracles of medical science, once your head was off your shoulders, that was the end of the show. But at least you boasted a nice bowling ball for when you arrived at the Great Beyond. 

Zero stood up while his Hunters searched for clues on the attack. A grey dawn slowly seeped across the black alley, and the crimson Reploid could make out the grimy walls and overturned garbage cans, splashed with blood. He looked at Cass. 

"...I can't think of anything to say." 

"I can. This is nucking futs." The badger brought his foot down and squished a rat that was trying to sneak back for a snack before bed. "Little bugger." 

"Don't, Cass." Zero barked. "We don't need rat guts mixed up with the evidence." 

"You're one to lecture me on protocol," Cass snorted. "Whatever killed these passionate younguns is still at large, and you've just been staring at their bodies with your gob wide open. The Zero _I_ know would've called back to MHHQ and told them to release the hounds the second he had a chance. But instead you're telling your men to go search for treasure." 

Zero glanced at his men who wandered dreamlike, looking more bewildered than investigative. He pressed the tips of his fingers against his forehead. "You're right," he murmured. "What the hell is wrong with me? It's been so long since we've had such a savage Maverick attack ... I think Monroe's hippie policies are starting to beat their way into my brain." 

"Heaven forefend." Cass smiled grimly and looked up at the cool rain that drizzled them. "You're not scared of that wiener, are you?" 

"Hardly." 

"He can be pretty pro-active, which might prove fatal to people with secrets." The badger gave Zero a sidelong glance. "Either way, we've got a job to do now. Let the rookies here handle the paperwork, know what I mean?" 

"You'd better stay here in case something comes back for dessert," Zero said, rapidly hopping between the close-hugging alley walls. "Call Hunter HQ. Tell them I'm in pursuit of a Maverick, and there are two civilians down." 

"Right," Cass mumbled, suddenly shivering from aftershocks caused by the dregs of the Flu. "I can't wall-jump like a great big blonde showoff anyway."

* * *

Jackdaw was dreaming that she was in a small bed, holding a baby and crying bitterly, which made no sense. The baby was quite beautiful. His hair was black, and he stared back at her with a startling pair of blue eyes, very unique against his dark skin. 

Beside her, a vague, inhuman shadow rumbled, "This is what you get. You were a respected warrior, and then you go and fall for that lunatic. He's gone, did you notice? He ran like a dog with its ass on fire. Now you and that ... thing you're holding are both going to die." 

Raindrops were falling on her head. Jackdaw opened her eyes, and the afterglow of the dream lingered, held down around her by the damp air. She didn't think about it for long, because she ached all over. Lying on her back, feeling the slimy earth beneath her, she stared at the rain for a long time before she finally wondered why the hell she was lying at the fringe of the old refugee camp with her mouth and sinuses packed with the taste and smell of blood.

* * *

The thrill of the hunt. How long had it been? 

The rain bounced off Zero's armour with an undignified tinkling sound, but he barely noticed. He was feeling too good, darting from rooftop to rooftop, his blood stirring with the anticipation of battle, his breath sawing in and out of his systems in a cooling ebb and flow. If only he were running alongside X and an army of Hunters, he'd feel like his old self again. Worries about Monroe, Celeste, and Killer Humans from vague places named Eden all burned away when he was hunting. 

A trail of fresh blood was flecked evenly across the asphalt rooftops, hard to follow on a wet ground but still possible. Zero bounded across another alley in one leap, and nearly lost his footing when he landed on a rooftop that had loose gravel instead. Cursing, he steadied himself and paused to get his bearings. 

The blood trail was down to a few drops that staggered unevenly across the gravel. He could hear traffic crawling the streets below, slithering through rain-soaked streets. He caught a movement out of the corner of his right eye and whipped around to face it. 

A middle-aged human man in a frayed brown jacket raised up his hands in alarm. "Whoa man ... don't kill me. I didn't know I can't smoke up _here_ either." 

Zero eased a little. "I'm not the building superintendent. I'm Maverick Hunter Zero." 

"How about that? The One and Only Zero. That'll be something to tell my wife when she wakes up." The man huddled in the doorjamb of the stairwell and struggled to light a cigarette against the will of the wet wind. 

Zero said, "It's not safe here. There's a Maverick in the area. I advise you to go back to your apartment." 

"They don't let us smoke in our apartments anymore, those Nazi Commie bastards." 

"Go!" 

"All right, all right. Don't get your hair all frizzy." The human flicked his lit cigarette defiantly at Zero, and it bounced harmlessly off his armour. 

Zero glared. 

"Sorry," the man muttered after a few tense seconds. He stepped out of the doorjamb to retrieve the smoke, and a gleaming silver stinger suddenly burst through his shoulder. 

The human crumpled to the ground, and the sharp gravel sliced his palms. He wasn't dead, but he trembled violently, silently, blood and saliva foaming around his lips. 

Whenever he pursued his quarry, Zero's first instinct was to go after the Maverick relentlessly. His instinct usually conflicted strongly with his Hunter Protocol, which instructed him to help stricken humans first in instances where there was no back-up available. This time, Zero's shock overrode both and he stared stupidly at this new enemy. 

It was Wire Sponge. Looking back at Zero through Sting Chameleon's bubble-shaped eyes. With the barbed Strike Chain looped around his reptilian tail, and the petals of an oversized pink flower planted at the top of his head, flopping in his beaklike face. 

Zero worked his mouth silently, but couldn't manage anything. 

Sting Sponge broke into a huge, toothless smile. "Something to say, you big blonde bitch?" 

In one ear, Zero could hear Wire Sponge's voice. But when he cocked his head slightly, he could pick up Sting Chameleon's rusty-kettle hiss. He finally found his voice. "What are -- what -- what do you want from the human? Let him go." 

"Sss." It was clearly Sting Chameleon talking now. "He reminds me of Han, who used to sing to me in my forest." The creature looked down at the trembling human. "Go, boy. Run to your puny family. You'll all be dead in our own good time." 

"Can you manage on your own?" Zero asked, not knowing what to do if the human said No. 

"I .. I..." the man gulped down a sob, his hand plastered hard to his wound, his brown jacket now almost completely black on the punctured side. His dark hair was sopping with rain. "I'll be all right." 

He dragged himself slowly back to the stairwell door, but couldn't find the strength to stand up and reach for the knob. Sting Sponge graciously opened the door so the human could struggle through it, and then helped him with a kick to the seat of his pants. The door swung shut and the Maverick faced Zero again. 

"What are you?" Zero demanded. 

"A Questing Beast," was all the hybrid offered. He flicked his tail and the coiled Strike Chain flew easily into his -- Wire Sponge's -- hands. He twirled it menacingly. 

Zero's hand reached back for his Sabre. "Did you kill those humans in the alley?" 

"Maybe I didn't. Most likely I did. Still, you can't be sure. I'm not the only danger wandering out there, Hunter. Is that fact finally starting to ooze its way into your walnut brain?" 

"I found a trail of blood." 

"And you can be sure of it in this rain?" 

"Sure enough." 

Sting Sponge nodded. "That's fine. I just wanted to make sure that the Hunters are still ending Maverick lives using circumstantial evidence." 

"I like your pretty pink tea hat," Zero said. 

The blade of the Strike Chain lashed out and cut a deep gouge across Zero's fingers, which retained their death-grip on his sabre. Zero charged. In the back of his mind there was a calm memory of X once telling him how, after a Hunting accident that knocked him unconscious, no one could pry Zero's sabre out of his fingers. Damn straight. 

The hybrid Maverick was spinning the chain again, and Zero swiped at the weapon. He cursed when the blade of his sabre failed him, and didn't cut the jointed steel. Instead, the chain tangled itself around the lime-coloured blade, and Sting Sponge hissed irritably. Zero automatically drove his knee into the creature's stomach -- he couldn't decide if it belonged to the chameleon or the sponge, but it was soft nonetheless -- and Sting fell back a little, winded. 

Before Zero could reclaim control of his sabre, he received a lightning-bolt lash to his cheek. The sight in his left eye went snowy, then white, then fizzled to black and received nothing more. 

Zero barked another curse, but managed to keep his cool long enough to pull his sabre out of Sting's grasp. Sting was not counting on this. His eyes bulged further, then his left one exploded when Zero drove his weapon into the side of his head. 

The wretched creature threw its head back into a howl that could only bubble pitifully in his squat neck. His steel tongue, still tipped with Zero's blood, flopped out of his mouth like a black-headed snake. Sting's one good eye darted madly, searching the Hunter out while his hands groped for the lightsabre that Zero kept embedded in his skull. 

The Crimson Hunter pushed down hard on his weapon, and the blade ripped up through Sting Sponge's head, spraying an arc of black fluids perversely across his flower-hat, which now looked pitiful in the carnage. Sting's choir like shrieks reached an insane pitch and he buckled, clutching at his wound. 

Panting, Zero stared. He stared for almost a full minute before he _realised_ he was staring instead of finishing off the hybrid, or questioning him. Why? 

Sting Sponge's blubbering tapered off a little. The Maverick looked up at Zero with his dripping half-face, blank as a newborn puppy. The rain rattled on the hollowed out shell of his head. 

Zero didn't move. 

Sting reached slowly for his Strike Chain, dropped after Zero's attack. 

Zero flew at him, and drove his sabre into the back of the reptile's hand. When Sting's pained wails started anew, Zero suddenly realised what he'd been waiting for. He shivered with pleasure. 

"Coward!" Sting Sponge's hiss ended in a sob. "Just kill me and be done with it." 

Zero kneeled down next to his prey and toyed with what was left of the flower on its head. He grinned. "I don't know. It's nice to have company. I've been dormant for too long, you know?" 

The tail that once belonged to Sting Chameleon flew up like a scorpion's to batter Zero, but the attack was feeble and blind. 

Zero watched the attack flutter by. "Nice one." 

Sting snarled weakly, his life mingling with the rainwater. The tainted puddle moved slowly to engulf the watery blood from the earlier attack on the human. It was a beautiful day. 

The hybrid gave a deep, shuddering sigh. 

"Not yet," Zero told him, retrieving his sabre. The green reploid winced and gave a weak cry, which Zero didn't miss. "You have some questions to answer first." 

"I won't answer anything." 

"I think that, in the end, you will." 

After a long silence, Sting smiled tiredly. 

"You're exhausted, Zero. It takes a lot of energy to stave the inevitable." 

"It hasn't always been easy," Zero admitted, pressing his sabre against the back of Sting's stubby neck and watching with grim fascination as the smoking hole became bigger and made a sound in the rain like sizzling grease. 

"You've made..." Sting Sponge gritted his jaw between words. "Some bad ... choices." 

Zero looked down at him with his one eye. "You'll be saying the same for yourself in a minute."

* * *

Evan woke up on the floor and the pain in his shoulder was indescribable. He would've slipped back into unconsciousness if his wife hadn't turned his head around to face her. She was pale and her hand shook under his chin, but she smiled wanly. 

"You went out for a cigarette, and you came back with a punctured lung, according to the paramedics." 

Suddenly aware of the strangers moving around in their apartment, Evan closed his eyes again, but he managed to smile back. "Ah thin' ah'm goan' quit..." 

"Evan, what happened? Do you know?" 

He shook his head. He'd been lying here all his life. "Can' 'member." 

"We're ready to go, miss," someone said. "He's stable enough for the trip." 

Evan's wife nodded and shakily pulled herself up. A horrible, yowling scream from somewhere outside sent electricity through her nerves again, and she cried out. 

One of the paramedics looked out the window. "What _was_ that?" 

"Cats, mebbe," Evan murmured as he was lifted onto a stretcher by two other medics. "Cats. Y'know how they c'n get ... terry-torial an' all." 


	23. Isle of Dogs

**Chapter 23: Isle of Dogs**

Eden's Diamondback Unit clattered down the catwalk on their way to training. Caillou watched them as he leaned against the cold steel railing, but he didn't move to join them. None of the warriors called to him, either. 

The noise faded and Caillou tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Not too far below, he could hear Asmodeus 12 addressing some fighters from his elite unit, the Mechanical Hounds. 

It was still too crowded to move around without drawing attention to himself. Nobody in Eden much cared about his comings and goings, but that didn't mean they didn't keep an eye on him-- 

Caillou heard a soft swishing sound, followed by a steely thump that made the railing vibrate painfully against the back of his head. He opened his eyes. Asmodeous 12 perched above his head and grinned down at him. 

"Nothing from Nytetrayn yet, boy?" 

Caillou swallowed what little spit was left in his mouth. "No, sir." 

The silver Mechadrake shifted his weight and his leg, maimed but still able to cling like a vise, inched a little closer to Caillou's head. "Five days, you know. If he's not back by then, I'll have to do something about it. Something that'll probably involve your head in my jaws." 

Burnt oil, rotting synthetics, jagged teeth. Caillou thought his heart would surely explode, but he didn't submit. He had nothing to lose anymore. "Asmodeus..." 

"Yes, boy?" 

"You're an asshole." 

"I know." There was an immediate, cold scraping sound and Caillou heard a sharp _woosh_ across the side of his head, which he jerked reflexively. Blood sprayed on his legs and the ground around him as if in preparation for some demonic ceremony. The railing quaked briefly against his back once more as Asmodeus silently spread his wings and swooped down into Eden. 

Caillou reached up, and hot fluid was immediately slick on his fingers as they touched the cartilage of his upper ear ... now dangling upside-down, held to the rest of his ear only by a small scrap of skin. He pulled his hand back and stared dumbly at the black shavings of hair glued to his red fingers. 

And then there was pain.

* * *

Jackdaw was dizzy and weak, barely able to remain upright on her thin legs. She pressed her long fingers against her forehead, which buzzed with the chatter of random thoughts and words. 

_No sun underground ... just water, water, clutching at your stomach nobody to help you, you'll die soon ..._

She dragged herself across the empty lot of the refugee camp, the short grass stinging her bare feet, the sand mixing with the rain and plastering to her ankles. 

_It was worth it for a warm touch, whispers, long hair entwined around rough fingers, the smell of an outsider..._

The air was cool, but she barely felt it or the mist of the rain. Her skin seemed nerveless, numb with fever. Cold blood, once crusted but now re-animated by the dampness, trickled down her face and she could smell nothing else. 

Jackdaw reached one of the cabins that once housed a displaced human (or two, or eight) during the first Maverick War. She nearly collapsed against the rough, splintered door and simply leaned with her cheek pressed against the wood, resting. 

_The moon is out tonight. Run like hell._

Hardly daring to hope, Jackdaw drew her hand up to turn the doorknob ... and fell inside the threshold of the cabin when the door opened. She lay on the slate-grey floor long enough for the pain in her bones to recede, and it didn't take long. Everything was so far away, anyway. 

She staggered to her feet once again, weaving as she walked into the centre of the cabin. The whole building was simply one large drafty square with crude bunk-beds pushed up against the walls. Rain pattered on the roof. 

A small sink was installed to the right of the door. A green pressure suddenly surged up Jackdaw's stomach, and she lunged for the basin. She hacked and retched but only spit up a small amount of blood. She trembled violently, slick with cold sweat, fingers gripping the sink almost hard enough to crush the porcelain, and stared for a long time at the dark stripe of rust running from the basin's tap to its drain. 

"What am I doing here?" Jackdraw mumbled, barely moving her lips. "What's wrong with me?" 

She turned the tap, and to her surprise, water flowed out. She stuck her hand underneath. It was cold. She cupped a little and apprehensively tasted it. It was clean. 

The refugee camp, inactive for years, suddenly had running water again. 

Why? 

The answer started to rise in the back of Jackdaw's brain, but she quickly squashed it. Regardless, the truth squirmed its ugly head around Jackdaw's block and shrilled. Everything was ready. Just in case. 

_Just in case._

It was peace time. But just in case. 

"Damn it." 

Jackdaw slapped some of the water on her hot face and the shock of the cold made her gasp a little. She rinsed out her mouth, spit out blood, took a small drink and immediately sicked it up, along with more blood. 

"Jesus!" 

She watched the pink mess swirl down the drain and tried to remember exactly what she had _done_, but the harder she thought about it, the more lost she became. The roiling thoughts returned and darkened her mind like a storm. Jackdaw clung to the sink and broke a sudden spell of coughing with a low moan. 

_Eyes like his father's..._

* * *

X's Ride Chaser barreled down the street as he weaved around morning rush hour traffic. The honks and threats of morning commuters blared in his ears. 

"Oh for crying out loud," the Hunter mumbled, pulling his vehicle to the side to travel along the curb. The Chaser sliced through a large puddle and a wave of dirty rainwater washed over a hapless pedestrian. 

"Sorry!" X called back sheepishly. 

The sopping woman stared after X forlornly, her now-useless umbrella dangling from her hand. 

It was one of _those_ days, X thought mournfully, turning his eyes back onto the road. Waking up to rain was bad enough, but waking up to rain _and_ the news of a shady double murder ... 

X quickly arrived at the scene of the crime. The alley was easy to spot, roped off along with a significant portion of the sidewalk. Cass the badger waved his arms at the blue Hunter anyway, and somehow at the same time managed to physically remove a pedestrian who ducked under the tape barrier that cut him off from his morning walk. 

X curbed his Ride Chaser, turned it off, and dismounted. 

"I'm glad you're here," Cass said to him, wiping rainwater from his brow. "Zero hasn't returned--" 

X walked past him without a word, and walked past the two human rookies who were resting by the entrance of the cursed alley. One of them seemed a little spooked, but managed to give X a weak smile. The other was pale, his huge dark eyes fixed frozen in his face, his arms slung over his knees. X gave him a brief pat on the head and walked into the alley. Immediately and inexorably, he came upon the bodies. The Hunter dropped to one knee, closed his eyes and bowed his head. 

"What's he--" one of the rookies began, his words cut off by a loud yelp. 

"Quiet, you knob," Cass hissed out of the corner of his snout, taking his elbow out of the human's ribs. "You of all the creatures on this miserable planet should know what he's doing." 

The alley fell silent enough for X's soft whispers to be heard even above the falling rain. The wet rookie sniffled and coughed quietly in the beginnings of a cold, and Cass scratched at his striped neck. Several seconds later, X stood up again, looked down at the victims once more, and finally turned to Cass. 

"What happened?" 

"We were on a routine patrol," Cass said. "We passed by the alley, and heard the screams. We ran in, and could hear something in the dark, leaping from wall to wall, making a quick getaway. Zero chased after it, and hasn't been back yet." 

"And the victims were dead when you found them?" 

"Well, they ain't getting any deader." 

"Mavericks," X said simply, emotionlessly. 

Cass looked uncomfortable. "We don't know that." 

"We don't know a lot of things right now, and it's getting dangerous." 

"Seems that way." 

X suddenly said, "Would you and the patrol mind leaving for a second?" 

Cass looked confused, but said, "Well, sure. Everything all right?" 

"Hopefully. I just need a second to myself, here." 

"No prob. Come on, you lot." Cass extended his massive arms and swept the rookies out of the alley with him. 

X watched him go, and breathed in the quiet of the alley for a few seconds. Without turning his head he said, "You can come out now, Zero." 

A steely thump sounded next to the blue Hunter as Zero leaped down from the rooftop. "Why'd you send them away?" 

"You know damn well why I sent them away." 

"Oh, this little thing," Zero said cheerfully. He pet the mangled Maverick corpse draped over his shoulders, very much a savage hunter. 

X looked at Zero and shook his head. Something malicious was awake behind his friend's one good eye, some beast that smelled breakfast and now waited for its fill. Had X been present to watch Celeste fight Iris, he would've recognised that look. He kept steady. "What did you find out? Actually, what _is_ that you're carrying?" 

Zero carelessly spilled his quarry onto the hard ground. X jumped back a little. The Maverick's limbs were splayed out awkwardly, its green hide covered with welts and burns wherever flesh remained; everything else was gouged. Deep, burned ruts crisscrossed its body. The protective casing of its belly was almost completely gone, and its mechanical guts shone dully in the grey light, the rain evaporating off its silent but still-warm gears. 

"What the--" 

"Some weird fusion between Sting Chameleon and Wire Sponge. Not hard to take apart, either. Talk about pathetic workmanship." 

X, who'd been initially stunned by the tapestry of carnage that his partner dropped at his feet, only then noticed that he was looking at a hybrid of two Mavericks he'd fought years ago. 

"Vile's back," Zero said. "He doesn't have enough resources to build a proper army, so it seems he's cobbling together whatever he can out of old junk. He's hiding out in Doppler's old base, remember that dump? We took him out there, a few years back. He's weak. Now's a good time to see that he stays that way--" 

"How do you know all this?" 

Zero trailed off awkwardly at X's question. He shut his mouth, rubbed the back of his neck, then suddenly lifted his head, pointed down at Sting Sponge and shrugged. "I wrung it out of him." 

"You tortured him?" 

"I guess it's pretty obvious, huh?" 

X leaned weakly against one of the alley's greasy walls. "And he talked, obviously. Did he die under the interrogation?" 

"Nah. When I got what I needed, I gut him. He stopped moving after about twenty minutes." 

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" X barked. 

"We're suddenly fighting a war. We can't waste too much time on thinking," Zero grinned. "So my method's a bit unorthodox. I found out that Vile is back, didn't I? And I know where he is." 

"Perfect. He's throwing the contents of his Recycle Bin at us and we're supposed to go after him. It seems too easy. Did Sting--Sponge--whatever admit to killing the humans?" 

"He did." 

"I was afraid of this," X murmured. "I don't know what to do." 

"What's so difficult? We assemble an army while Vile's still weak, and then--" 

"I'm not bloody well talking about Vile!" X snarled. "Look at you. Listen to what you've been saying. You wonder why I sent Cass away? Do you know what would happen if anyone heard you say what you just said to me?" 

Zero started to speak, but shrugged instead. His grin resurfaced. 

X stared. "You're going feral. You've tasted blood." 

"Seems I have. It was nice." 

Zero expelled a surprised "Ulf!" when X punched him. 

The Crimson Hunter rubbed his sore cheekbone but he didn't retaliate. He just continued smiling at X, whose clenched fists were trembling. "Quite unlike you, X. You trying to take me down?" 

"I'm trying to knock some sense into you," X said, then gave a weak cry and pressed his hands to the side of his head. "God above, what am I supposed to do with you now? You're not Maverick, but you're ... unstable. What if you--" 

"Hurt another Hunter?" 

"...Something like that. If I don't stop you now, it'll be on my hands." 

Zero nudged Sting Sponge's corpse with his toe. "A biting dog is shot because it's said that the taste of blood makes it crave more, and it'll bite again. That might be true. But how do we really know? There are instances where a "vicious" dog evades his sentence and lives an event-free life. Marked as dangerous, but still loyal at heart. I guess some people aren't too keen on the idea of taking a chance, however." 

"Come on," X said suddenly in a dark voice, turning on his heel. "I'll find a way to cover you this time. We can say that Sting's wounds were self-inflicted or ... or something. Monroe's going to scan you in a few days anyway, so whatever happens will happen. Just please don't do anything like this again." 

"Of course. I've had my fun." Zero scooped up his quarry and followed the blue reploid out of the alley. "Still got that Unit badge I gave you?" 

"Yes." 

"Good."

* * *

The waiting room's bench was hard, but Celeste didn't mind. It was cool and flat, and that's what mattered. She curled up and pressed her warm cheek against the orange plastic and watched the hazy, sideways hospital life pass her by. Her head ached abominably. 

Jake sat beside her and put his hand against her neck. "Feeling any better?" 

"No," Celeste managed, wondering why he bothered to ask. She squirmed, the effort of speaking making her feel stick to her stomach. She'd woken up that morning and gone outside to play, but couldn't seem to walk or run very far without stumbling and falling. As the day dragged on, she felt worse, and now ... well, here she was. 

"Don't be upset. Here, look what I bought you at the gift shop!" Jake tucked something under her arm. 

Celeste raised her head slowly to look at it. It was a small, black teddy bear with clear brown eyes and that trademark solemn teddy-bear-expression. Celeste put her head down again, squeezing the bear tighter. She didn't have the energy to thank her dad, but she knew he understood. 

"You'll feel better when we see the doctor." Jake ruffled her hair, then muttered "Damn, don't they have any magazines in this place that aren't older than our Lord?"

* * *

Dr Kline kept his hands behind his back, expressionless as he watched the paperweight hurled by Celeste dent the wall about two inches from his face. 

Monroe stood open-mouthed at the pitch, then looked at Celeste, stunned, and turned up his palms. _Why?_

Kline just smiled at his former patient gently. "There now Celeste, you don't want to hurt me. You're a remarkable girl, really, very special--" 

"Oh, I'll _show_ you something special!" Celeste started towards the doctor, and the world slid downward in an instant when something twined around her ankles. Her jaw cracked on something hard and suddenly she was staring at the intricate blue and gold latch-hook pattern that made up the carpet of Monroe's office. 

Hawkmoon had her paw set down firmly on her back, the Mechadrake's claws digging into her already-sore flesh. "Don't move, McTreggor." 

Celeste struggled to sit up. "He--!" 

Hawkmoon pushed down harder. _"Quiet!"_ she barked. "Lay still." 

Celeste breathed through clenched teeth as Kline's brown loafers swept across the carpet and stopped in front of her face. The doctor dropped to one knee and squinted at Celeste. He had white hair, a seamed face and pale green eyes. Last time she'd seen him, he'd had brown hair and a smooth, angular face. But the eyes, they were the same. 

Kline reached out for the Huntress. Celeste strained her neck to move her face away from his touch until she felt something pop a little in her shoulders. She emitted a small hiss of pain when Hawkmoon dug her nails further into her back, and she was forced into submission. 

Kline pressed two cold fingers under Celeste's chin and he turned her profile this way and that. "You survived that fever, surprisingly," he said more to himself. "Less surprisingly, it seems to have affected your mental well-being." 

"That's the reason I brought you here," Celeste heard Monroe say from the sky. "Celeste has been with the Hunters since she was quite young, and is a valuable veteran. During her early days, she was sharp and alert. But her health -- and I don't like to say it, but her sanity too -- has recently started to erode. Quite recently, she revealed the nature of her ... gift to the HQ's head of Medical. I thought we could work with her, and maybe help get her on the road to recovery while learning more about her skill. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to want to cooperate." 

"Is that true, little Celeste?" Kline's smile was back, sweet like nightshade. "Are you being stubborn again?" 

"'Are you being a revolting son of a bastard again?'" Celeste mocked in a pretty good imitation of the doctor's voice. She squirmed under Hawkmoon's paw. "I'm not four years old anymore. Don't talk to me as if I am." 

"Then please don't act like a child. Cooperate with me, with us." 

"What do you want?" 

Kline looked back at Monroe. 

"Let her up," Monroe told Hawkmoon. 

The silver Mechadrake assisted Celeste to her feet. Hawkmoon guided her back to her chair, and she sat. 

"It's pretty simple, Celeste," Monroe said. "We want to learn more about Mindspeak, maybe see how it can benefit us. When I was younger, I'd heard vague rumours about humans who are extremely, almost freakishly, intuitive. It's an exciting advancement for this race, if it's permanent. We need more study done on the subject. So we want to keep an eye on you. Make note of your ability and its..." Monroe grimaced slightly. "...side effects." 

Celeste didn't miss the fact that Cain's son used her first name. "So you want to see what makes me tick." 

"For lack of a better cliche, yes." 

The Huntress flicked her eyes over to Kline, who stood beside her. "And I suppose _he'll_ be the one to disassemble me?" 

Monroe frowned a little. "Dr Kline is highly respected in his profession. I assure you he won't rip you open. He just wants to ... have a look at you. Talk to you." 

"What about Genesis? Why can't I keep working with him?" 

"Well, Genesis' documents don't tell me much. I asked you about your sessions, but all I got out of you was 'I don't know.'" Monroe sneered a little. "Besides, Genesis is in a bit of trouble for never informing me about your condition." 

"He won't be canned, will he?" 

"No. But he won't be working with you. Now listen. If you're under Kline's care and you don't destabilize any further, you can resume your duties." The hope bled out of Monroe's voice as he looked at Celeste, who gripped at her chair's armrests, white-knuckled. "But I'm already having my doubts about your cooperation. Why, exactly, did you try to bean the nice doctor?" 

"It's a shame I missed." 

"First the attack on Iris, and now this. And you're wondering why we don't think you're stable enough to remain with the Hunters?" 

"No. I understand your reasons. I just don't want anything to do with _him._" 

Now Monroe looked at Kline. 

Kline's smile was now a little faint. "I wouldn't mind an explanation, either."

* * *

"So you can't do anything to help my girl?" 

Dr Kline stared at Jake over his thick booklet of paperwork. "You seem to be the type of gentleman who only understands a simple answer. So I'll repeat myself without the sugar. We don't know what's wrong with her, but we do know she's not responding to any medications or treatments. She's dying." 

Jake's arms tightened unconsciously, and Celeste, cradled, made a faint noise of protest. It was a detached sound; the fever was taking her further away for longer intervals. She still clutched at the black bear that Jake had given her, and its fur was so warm from pressing against her hot skin, it almost felt alive. 

"We've seen this kind of sickness before," Kline said. He didn't break eye contact. "Seems to be genetic. We're not sure what causes it to be passed on. Maybe the parent's lifestyle?" 

"If I wasn't holding my dying daughter," Jake said in a wry, fierce way, "I'd break yer arse and send the pieces to your mother." 

"Calm down, Mr McTreggor. You seem to speak with a bit of an accent when you're upset." Kline's green eyes narrowed amusedly. "I find such dialects to be a little charming, but some of the nurses here never had much exposure to the ways of old-world gutterblood. You might confuse them." 

Jake swiftly rose to his feet and Kline stood at the same time. "Yes, it's about time we move on. We're going to admit your daughter, run a few more tests." 

"Here, yeh just said there wasn' any--" Jake stopped, closed his eyes, and opened them again. "You just said there wasn't any hope for her." 

"And what would you do?" Kline said sharply. "Take her home, let her waste away there?" 

"Sure. If nothing can be done here, at least it'll be dignified." 

"That's illegal, Mr McTreggor. Maybe we _can_ help her. You don't want to throw away the chance, do you?" 

Jake looked behind him. Two members of the hospital staff -- big fellows, at that -- were quietly blocking the exit to the small triage cubicle. He dropped his eyes. "I just want her to get better," he mumbled. "That's all. She's all I have." 

"And you can be assured we'll try," the doctor said briskly, taking Celeste before Jake could react. "It looks grim, but we must always hope." He started away, and Jake followed. 

"Where are you going, Mr McTreggor?" 

"Following you, friend." 

"You can't. No relations are allowed to be present for the testing. You'll have to sit in the waiting area." 

"No relations, huh?" Jake said. "I call bullshit on that one." He started towards Kline with the intent of scooping Celeste back up, but the two orderlies grabbed him firmly by the arms and snapped him back. Jake gave a loud yell of protest that set several pairs of eyes in the waiting area on the commotion, and Kline slipped out of the cubicle before he could untangle himself. The thrill of a potential fight drained from Jake's veins but his fists remained clenched. 

_Doctors are assholes,_ whispered a voice in his head that sounded like gravel being crunched underfoot. 

_For once,_ Jake returned, _I agree with you._

"If we could just get you to sign some forms, Mr McTreggor..."

* * *

"No, there isn't any hope. She's destroyed." 

Someone a million miles away drawled a response. Celeste closed her eyes and clung to her bear. 

"Whose fault? I don't know. We still don't understand what causes this disease, but the fact that her father is a tick-bitten, roving stray doesn't help matters. Let me tell you, I worked myself nearly to death going through school. Up all night, all the time. I once passed out into a bowl of soup -- oh, stop smiling you jackass. I work sixty hours a week, I pay my taxes, and people like _him_ think they can shrug off responsibility, then cry when Fortune collects her due. I don't know what can be done for his daughter, really, but we'll see what else we can try." Kline lifted Celeste up roughly, and white-hot pain streaked through her nerves. A raspy snarl leaped from Celeste's burning, paper-dry throat. She kicked out and caught Kline in the elbow. 

"Miserable girl!" the doctor barked, and the other doctor laughed. Celeste's strength was rapidly waning, but she nailed Kline again, and he dropped her with a rough curse and a startling blow to the side of her head. The world darkened. 

The other doctor dropped his laughter immediately. "You can't do that." 

Another strike clipped her, and Celeste cringed. 

"No, I didn't think you were so tough," Kline said through a fierce grin. "We've wasted enough time. Let's get to business. Get this out of the way." The doctor yanked Jake's bear from Celeste's arms. 

Celeste grasped at the air. "I want my bear!" 

Kline tossed the stuffed animal onto the hospital room's counter, where it rolled off and landed on the floor face-down. A helpless loneliness stole over Celeste and she cried out for her father, who'd let her be taken away. 

Kline shook her. "Stop the noise. Stop the noise now, or I'll throw out the stupid bear and you'll never see your father again. You don't have much time left, so you'd better listen to me. Are you listening to me?"

* * *

Celeste didn't cry as she dictated the memory, but she didn't make eye contact. She looked at the floor and sniffled a couple of times. 

"That's..." Monroe's leather chair creaked and talked as he shifted. "...Well..." 

"That's all a lie," Kline said calmly but firmly. "That never happened." 

The Huntress jerked her head up and glared. "I remember differently." 

"You were not the best-behaved patient I'd ever had," Kline admitted, "but I understood how sick you are. Never, in my career, have I been that cruel. I would never hit a child in distress, or take away her toy." 

"What the hell explains these memories, then?" Celeste snarled. "I can see them all, clear as day." 

"Which is impossible," Kline countered. "You were so young. You were delirious, besides. There is no possible way you can have such a clear, accurate memory of the event." 

Monroe suggested, "Maybe her enhanced abilities have something to do with this memory?" 

"We'll soon see." 

"You're not getting near me," Celeste tuned up again. "I won't let you. I won't be your test subject." 

"Then you're dismissed from the Hunters," Monroe said simply. 

Celeste closed her mouth and turned to Cain's son. 

"You're relieved of your duties. Furthermore, I can't let you walk around unsupervised in your current state. You're erratic and unpredictable, and a danger. I'm detaining you. Your mother will be called to escort you home." 

Seven years with the Hunters. Seven years hiding her secret. Suddenly, it was over. Celeste felt sick in her heart, but she lifted her head again. "Fine." 

"You brought this on yourself, McTreggor." Monroe stood up. "Kline, thank you for your time. I'm sorry to have wasted it. Hawkmoon, please see that McTreggor is comfortably settled in cell 32."

* * *

Nytetrayn opened his eyes. He wrapped his black wings tighter around him. The rain had stopped, but it was still chilly. 

"I'm sorry, Celeste," he murmured. "It had to be done." The Mechadrake cracked a sour smile. "I do the worst things to you poor McTreggors for my own personal gain, don't I? But everything will work out in the end, for all of us. I promise." 

Nytetrayn's paws sunk deep into the wet sand as he crossed the Refugee Camp's sandy lot, keeping his eyes on the sprawling MHHQ building as he made his way towards it. He took little notice of the ramshackle cabins surrounding him until-- 

"Blackavar!" 

Nytetrayn stopped, surprised, and looked in the direction of the word. 

A lean, pale-brown woman with black hair glared back at him from the doorway of one of the cabins. She was wrapped in a blanket, and although she was several metres away, Nyte could see her shivering under her thin covering. 

"Blackavar, you treacherous, jealous bastard!" the woman screeched. "Look at me! Look what you've done to me!" She flung her arms back and her wrap opened a little at the front. 

"Oh Lordy," Nytetrayn said with an embarrassed half-laugh. The woman was naked. The Mechadrake stopped laughing when he walked a little closer and saw that her body was raked with terrible scars. 

The woman shrank back as Nytetrayn drew closer. "Get away, Blackavar." 

"I'm not Blackavar," Nyte said. "But your scent is familiar. I can also smell that you're sick. Do you need help?" 

"Don't come any closer!" 

"Or are you just Maverick Hunter Headquarters' resident crazy cat woman?" 

The canopy of grey clouds hovering over the standoff darkened, and it started to rain again. 


	24. Two AM

**Chapter 24: Two A.M.**

"All right then," said one young warrior as he stood up from the campfire and brushed off his grey jumpsuit. His hair was jet and his eyes were the colour of the bloated moon above. "Are we ready to get down to what's known as 'reddish work at night?'" 

The challenge pulled the rest of the warriors to their feet, and they started to shuffle and check their equipment. They doused their campfire, and the darkness of the Grasslands pounced on them. They didn't mind. 

Far off in the distance was the city, its myriad lights pinpricking the night. The leader looked at the huddle of buildings, which seemed so timid against the half-wasteland that surrounded it. Maverick Hunter Headquarters was on the outskirts of the city, the leader knew well enough. He'd seen so himself, one of the few. He was sixth generation, he was considered ripe enough for the honour. 

His shadow came to stand beside him. "Are you worried?" 

The leader looked up. "You've known me practically since I was born. Since when do you bother to ask?" 

A sharp grin lit up the night. "Protocol?" 

"I'm worried for the safety of my fighters, because I know that not all of us will be coming back," the leader answered. "But it's a righteous thing that we're doing. The world needs us." 

"Mhm." 

"The world needs Eden and its discipline. With each generation, Eden grows closer together. But above ground, like in that wreck of a city we're looking at now, the generations seem to grow apart, and become deviant. Look at how small the city is compared to the dead world that surrounds it. It's like a mere handful of civilisation, all that humans could muster after a savage war. And humanity will lose its way again soon enough, if we don't intervene. Especially if robots and Reploids are allowed to keep mixing with the populace." The warrior ran his fingers through his hair, then spat. "Humans are the children of God, and they're chaotic and disobedient. How far removed from the Light are Reploids? Far enough so that morals and laws barely touch them, and they run wild. What comes next?" 

"Some sort of horrific reckoning that'll poke holes in the world, I imagine," said his companion. 

"This world has already corrupted Jody Loy, one of Eden's finest. He was sent to retrieve Celeste McTreggor; he hasn't returned. And what about Ange Spar? My father told me that years ago, she was a highly devoted soldier, until she was seduced by that Outsider and the stink of a corrupt land. It's a poisonous thing we're up against here. I want to mount the attack immediately. The longer we're exposed, the more likely it is that we'll suffer the fate of those who've fallen." 

"Try not to worry too much, boy." The shadow looked over his shoulder, and a hundred reptilian eyes glittered in the starlight. "You have backup."

* * *

Nytetrayn had decided to risk a small fire. 

From the sandy central lot of the Refugee Camp, the black Mechadrake kept a wary eye on the sleeping beast that was Maverick Hunter Headquarters. A few scattered lights winked on and off in the building, but things remained quiet. Two a.m. was a lonely hour. 

Nytetrayn stirred at the contents of a discarded pot he'd scrounged from under the bed of one of the cabins. The pot had been covered with ants, but those were easily brushed off. And if he missed a few ... hey, protein. He had a feeling that Ange needed all she could get. He was going to have a hard enough time getting the girl to choke down some of the rabbit that he'd caught and prepared for her. Ange did seem a little more lucid now. At least she wasn't snarling profanities at him anymore, and accusing him of being Blackavar, her Mechadrake in Eden that turned on her when she was cast out. 

Nyte had spent most of the day trying to get her to talk sense, but she would have none of it. Some event had turned her into a wreck, and the Mechadrake pondered bringing her back to MHHQ, which would likely be a messy affair. He thought he remembered hearing, in some distant, foggy piece of Eden gossip, that a cataclysmic event in the Hunters' history made the organisation unfriendly towards the dragons. 

So he squatted in front of the fire with his wings wrapped around himself, and wondered what the hell he was going to do. And, once again, he wondered why he cared about matters that didn't really concern him. He was surprised to see Ange alive; he'd been present when her sentence was brought down upon her. A deviant Child of Eden had their own Mechadrake turned against them, and Blackavar, jealous of Ange's dealings with Jake, had torn into his former mistress with pleasure. Mortally wounded, Ange had fallen into Eden's river, and Asmodeus was content to leave her there. He usually gave Outcasts a chance to live. Most died of their Mechadrake-inflicted wounds, and those that didn't and tried to expose Eden had an odd way of ending up in lunatic asylums. 

Evidently, Ange had lived. And escaped. And she looked horrid. She was slumped against a nearby cabin wall, still wrapped in a grungy blanket, her bare feet up to her ankles splashed with damp, crumbling sand. She was asleep, snoring faintly. As Nytetrayn watched her, her eyes suddenly flew open and reflected the flickering firelight. Nyte braced himself for another salvo of raving nonsense, but Ange only blinked at him and then withered in her wraps a little. "Torrent? What do you want from me?" 

Okay, Nytetrayn mused, if things had been interesting before, now they were downright nutty. "Torrent? As in Leviathan? I'm not him, if that's what you think. Are you feeling better, Ange?" 

"Who's Ange?" the girl asked warily. 

"What kind of question is that? You just spent an entire day cussing about your lost title, Ange, Third-Generation Warrior of Eden." 

"You're not making any sense," the girl growled, rising slowly to her feet, "and I don't think I like you. My name's Jackdaw." 

"Sure, sure, I'm the one who's Looney Tunes," Nytetrayn snorted and poked at a stick of wood which blossomed into a shower of sparks. "Everyone knows that _all_ people who are sure of themselves stand around naked in abandoned sand lots, wrapped in blankets." 

"I -- " Jackdaw began, and stumbled. "Oh, just go away. Get out of here, I'll tell Headquarters that there's a vagabond camping out on their property." 

Nyte grinned. "After you explain why you were AWOL for a day, right? Just sit down and relax. I made you something to eat." 

"Not hungry. Don't feel like being poisoned." 

"I'm not out to poison you. I owe a debt to your son." Nyte removed the stewed rabbit from the fire. "Sorry, it's kind of spartan. It'll still do you good." 

Jackdaw was stuck fast. "'Son?' I don't have a son. I'm not married." 

"You weren't in Eden, either," Nyte said with warm amusement, and a breeze suddenly stirred. Nyte's face turned stony. He held his head erect. "Do you hear something?" 

"What's this about a son?" Jackdaw demanded. Nytetrayn motioned firmly for her to be silent. There was no mistaking what he heard. 

Creaking, snapping, tendons and metal fighting against air currents and gravity -- with ease. 

Wings. 

Nyte jumped to his feet and kicked sand over his small fire in one motion. He grabbed Jackdaw by her upper arm and hauled her up roughly. 

"Hey!" she objected, clutching her blanket tighter around her with her other hand. "What--" 

"Shut up woman, shut up, shut up!" Nyte hissed. He smacked open the nearest cabin door and jerked the girl into the dark. He closed the door most of the way, but left a small crack open, which he peered out of. "If you value your life, get back and keep quiet!" Nyte looked over his shoulder to glare at Jackdaw behind him, and the feeble light of the moon and stars outside was only sufficient to illuminate his draconian head, which seemed eyeless and shapeless. Jackdaw shrank back. 

Less severely, Nytetrayn added, "We're facing a very sudden, very unpleasant situation. Doubly so for you. You don't want to be seen." 

"By who?" Jackdaw scratched in a whisper. 

In answer, a boy crossed Nyte's line of vision about seven metres away from the cabin door. He was young, probably even younger than Ange, but he had the confident gait and grace of a racehorse, evident even through his mere walking. He paused and glanced around, fully alert but not on the defensive. Nytetrayn didn't even have to notice the make of the youngster's uniform before his heart sank into his tail; the boy was a Warrior of Eden. 

A red Mechadrake with a bristling black mane came to stand beside him, and all doubt in Nytetrayn's mind, what little there was, was removed. The red Mechadrake was a huge fellow, typical of the subspecies. He also lacked the imposing black horns of his kind, and one ear was folded over and fused to the side of his head. When he twitched his good ear back and forth to scan for sounds, the dud ear also twitched like a huge boil rippling with pus. Typical Edenian Mechadrake flaws, Nytetrayn thought to himself. The result of hasty, counterfeit construction. 

As if his ears were burning, the big red looked in Nyte's direction and cocked his head slightly at the smouldering campfire. He stooped his head down to his master's ear, and whispered something. The boy glanced briefly at the cabin, then slowly nodded his head. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and made a low, owl-like sound which suddenly flared sharply in a series of cardinal-like twitters. 

"Nice," Nyte muttered, "but kind of stupid if he's using code to keep himself hidden. Whoever heard of a cardinal singing at night?" Still, Nyte's heart raced. He was sure that his hiding spot had been discovered. 

However, the boy moved on in the direction of Maverick Hunter Headquarters, and his Mechadrake followed. Nytetrayn crouched further in the darkness as a host of warriors followed the boy, some of them quite close to Nyte's door. They cut across the land steadily but briskly, like hunting cats, like men with murderous intent. Boots swept through the stubbly grass, kicking up small waves of sand. Then they were gone, but Nyte knew better than to relax. 

He was right. Not a minute later, the sand in the empty lot began to stir as if possessed, propelled by the steady, dark wings that beat out of sight above. Nyte caught scent of the downdraft and smelled oil, machines, flesh and blood. Mechadrakes, a whole fat lot of them, were joining in on Eden's storm of Hunter Headquarters. 

Or was it really a storm? Nytetrayn figured when the time came for Asmodeus' whacko holocaust, he would've thrown everything he had against the machines. A dose of the Mechanical Hounds and their Mechadrakes would surely rough things up, but it likely wasn't enough to take down the Hunters. 

The outdoors fell silent. Nyte dared to stick his head out the door and taste the air. All clear. For now. He could see the Edenites far off, quite near Maverick Hunter Headquarters' south side. Dozens of Mechadrakes wheeled in the sky above them, but all backs were turned to the Refugee Camp. 

Nytetrayn stepped back into the cabin and pulled the door shut behind him. "We'll stay here 'til we know what they're up to," he told Jackdaw. 

"All right," Jackdaw agreed weakly. 

Glass exploded behind him, and Nyte turned just in time to see one of his own. 

The strange black Mechadrake perched for half a second on the splintered windowframe beside the door, like a great gargoyle. A long, ugly neck stretched out, topped with a triangular head that leered at the room with interest. But the Mechadrake, who was unusually small, swept his burning eyes around the room, but failed to notice Nyte, who was behind his head. 

Or maybe the Mechadrake _could_ see Nyte, and didn't care, as its attention was enormously focused on-- 

"Ange? _Ange?_ No, it couldn't be you. 

"For Christ's sake, who's _Ange?_" Jackdaw cried desperately, clutching her blanket tighter around her. 

"You're Ange, you miserable bint." The Mechadrake swept down from the windowframe and landed easily in front of the terrified woman. His claws screamed against the slate-grey floor. "Don't try lying to me. You lied to me once. Do you think I couldn't tell if you were lying to me again?" 

"Get out! I don't know what you're talking about." Ange's eyes darted wildly from side to side and she stepped back from the advancing reptile. 

"I guess you survived my attack in Eden." He swung his head sharply to the side and a bit of drool escaped from the side of his maw, hitting the floor with a faint hiss. "Not that you look much better for it. You were once a lovely girl, quite beautiful. I was proud to be at your side. But that's over and done with, and you made the wrong choice. Goodnight, dear Ange--" 

The Mechadrake's head jerked up suddenly and more wet flew from its dripping teeth as Nytetrayn leaped on his back. Ange gasped when the acidic drops hit her arm, burning it. Then she dove for cover as a storm of teeth and leather flew at her and smashed into the wall, toppling a pair of bunk-beds like matchsticks. 

Nytetrayn couldn't remember the last time he'd fought for his life, but his blood warmed up to the old task very quickly. Swinging his head from side to side, he slashed at the invader's throat with his teeth, ripped into his scales with his claws until he could feel the metal beneath the thick cushion of flesh. He found his grip and hung on like a pitbull, even as his rival lashed across his legs with a wicked barbed tail. Not much damage could be done; Nyte had caught the other Mechadrake by surprise, and he was at too awkward an angle to fight back efficiently. Nyte pumped his wings once to give himself some leverage, then found a good foothold for his back claws in his enemy's belly. The strange Mechadrake gave an ugly screech as Nytetrayn thrust backwards to keep balance and lost his hold, ripping handfuls of flesh like a greedy kid going to work at a ginger-bread house. 

For a second, Nyte hovered in the air, his wings causing broken bits of glass and wood to scuttle across the floor like misshapen bugs. His stricken quarry lurched beneath him, hunched over, his broken forepaws and wings nearly dragging on the floor, his mouth hanging open and gasping desperately to cool his overclocked innards. The Mechadrake tried to scream again, but the sound caught in his torn throat like the whistling breath of a dying man. 

Nyte dropped the torn handfuls of the Mechadrake, and then made one last dive, smashing the invader into the rock-solid floor, which cracked upon impact and left his friend's head as little more than a smear on a piece of grey canvas. 

The Mechadrake's cries ceased. 

Nytetrayn's dizzy panting and the hum of his gears re-aligning themselves filled the cabin. Then the musty night air wafted back into the cabin, and the crickets outside began to call to each other once more. Or had they ever stopped? Probably not. Summer was at its height, and they were probably getting a little desperate. 

Nyte stood up when he had the strength. "That was exciting." 

Jackdaw re-appeared, mouselike, from behind some debris, her eyes huge. "Everything's going goddamn crazy," she said shakily, "and for some reason, I'm in the middle of it." 

"No you're not, my dear," Nyte reassured her as he poked his head cautiously out of the cabin once more. The Inheritors of Eden were completely gone. They'd likely infiltrated MHHQ by now, but the building was still quiet. "You're involved, but not in the middle. A spear-carrier on the right, maybe. That _was_ an old friend of yours you probably don't remember, but he wasn't hunting you specifically. He just happened to be sent here to dispatch any witnesses, and Fate decided to have a bit of fun. What are you going to do now?" 

Jackdaw lifted her head, surprised at the abrupt change in the conversation. "What do you mean?" 

"What do you mean 'what do you mean?' It's a pretty straightforward question." 

"I ... really don't know what to do." Jackdaw was shaking. "There was a time when I knew who I was." 

Nyte winked. "You're sure about that?" 

"Well, if I ever was, I sure as hell am not anymore." 

"My personal recommendation? Stay here. Don't worry about the Hunters. Or rather, _do_ worry about them, but don't fear any repercussions for going AWOL. They're about to have some bigger problems than looking for you. Lay low for now. It was good to see you again." Nyte stepped out of the cabin and unfurled his wings. 

"Where are you going?" Jackdaw called after him. 

"Off to mingle, of course."

* * *

Maverick Hunter Headquarters' garage was almost completely still. Quiet, peaceful, serene. 

"Until Cass wakes up," Jackal grunted to himself, buffing a ride chaser. He paused in mid-swipe when he heard a scratch at one of the garage's side-doors. Jackal knew that sound well enough. 

"That you, Cuchulain?" 

"Yip." 

The human mechanic stood up, wincing as his knees popped and the pins and needles tingled in his veins. He opened the small door, and a she-wolf bounded in. She immediately curled up on the seat of Jackal's personal ride chaser, _Lady Macbeth._

"No Cu, get down. You know you're not allowed on that." 

The wolf slowly dragged herself off the seat as if she were fighting heavy gravity and hopped up on Zero's ride chaser instead, _War Dog_. 

"Good girl. Pee on it while you're there." 

She didn't. Jackal grinned anyway. He loved animals, especially wild canines of all kind, and he'd even owned a tame dingo while growing up in Australia. But he'd never met an animal as keen and bright as this lone wolf, Cuchulain, formally known as "Supertramp." Jackal frowned when he recalled how the wolf had gone missing for a long stretch of time, and Genesis said she probably ran away because she was humiliated by her stupid name. So when Supertramp found her way back home, Jackal changed her name and asked Genesis what he thought about the name Cuchulain. 

"The Hound of Ulster," Genesis had remarked. "Fitting. But how is your female wolf going to feel about being named after a screaming testosterone-driven warrior who probably spent a lot of time fighting evil with his dangly bits hanging out?" 

Apparently, she hadn't minded at all. At least, she hadn't wandered off since. She did tend to go missing for a day or two, but she always came back to the garage. 

Jackal fell back to work. His assistant, Bottle, began to tinker with a wounded ride chaser beside him. "Don't you ever sleep, sir?" the small yellow reploid asked his boss. 

"Sometimes, when you turn your back for a second." 

Cuchulain raised her head two seconds before a knock sounded at the delivery door. 

Bottle looked at Jackal. "Are we expecting a delivery?" 

"Yes, actually, from Steel Depot. Though it's here a bit earlier than I expected." Jackal carelessly flung open the door and Cuchulain flattened her ears against her head. 

"Sir!" Bottle just had time to cry out before a red Mechadrake with one ear dove at him with one sweep of its massive wings and seized the reploid's head with its back claw. With remarkable, silent grace, it tossed Bottle into the air and grabbed him across the neck with his jaws, like a bear with a salmon. After a sharp, deadly shake, Bottle fell to the ground lifelessly, and the Mechadrake scanned the room for further threats as it ran its forked tongue over its black-stained chops. Cuchulain rose quickly to her feet, snarled, tensed her body ... and dove under _Lady Macbeth._

Knocked over flat on his back by the red hurricane, Jackal had mercifully missed seeing the end of the friend he'd come to depend on during those endless sweltering summer days and freezing winter nights of work. But he could hear Bottle's last, desperate cry well enough, and when he tried to scramble to his feet, a clawed foot slammed down on his arm and Jackal gasped sharply when it was nearly wrenched it out of his socket. 

A blue Mechadrake with one dead eye looked down at him emotionlessly. "Keep still and you won't be harmed. Our quarrel is not with humans, even those who choose to fraternize with abominations." 

"Wha--Wha--Wha--" Jackal didn't know where to start. "Who are you? Wha' ya do with Bottle? How ... security?" 

A young man with black hair and pale eyes walked softly to stand beside the blue Mechadrake, and he kneeled next to Jackal's head. "We're the Inheritors of Eden. We have been chosen to goad lost humans back to the flock ... and we will start by breaking their dependence on hollow, soulless metallics such as your former 'friend'--" 

"You _killed_ Bottle!" 

"But we have freed _you._ You now have a chance at salvation, at helping humanity to become as pure as snow once more--" 

"Oh, fuck OFF!" Jackal half-screamed. He struggled to get up, but he was still pinned. He tried to spit at the boy instead, but only succeeded in hitting himself on the cheek. "Damn it! Now look what you made me do!" Jackal shook his head like a dog. "Bottle never hurt anyone, and you killed him! So as far as I'm concerned, you can take your salvation, your speeches, your fleece as white as snow or whatever the hell you were mouthing off about just a second ago, and stick it where the unicorns don't roam!" 

"As for security," the boy beside Jackal continued in the same toneless voice, "They weren't a concern. Seems as if you Hunters have gotten a little soft during peace time."

* * *

Doma learned early on that life pretty much sucks. 

A sleek, gold reploid of medium build fresh off the conveyer belt, Doma was an otherwise nondescript new grunt at the lowest rung of the Hunters. In fact, it was only his second night on the job, and he'd been active for a mere week. 

And he was realising quickly that life had its miracles and triumphs, and life had its kicks in the ass. Or, more accurately, it had searing pain inflicted by electrified, barbed ropes. 

Doma didn't know why he was the lucky one to receive the slow, painful death. He'd been patrolling the popular footpath and garden that ran along the outside of MHHQ along with three other rookies and a veteran who was showing them the ropes. 

"You've come at a good time," the gruff senior had told Doma as they strolled past the well-tended lawns and the trees in their full summer dress. "It's a good time to learn. Nice and quiet." 

And then a dragon had landed on his head. 

Doma's mouth hung slack as the Captain quickly lost an arm beside him, and another dragon charged him. The rookie recovered himself just long enough to brace for the inevitable impact, but the dragon merely gathered himself up, pounced over Doma's head, and sank his teeth into the reploid behind him. 

Was this a drill? Doma had wondered, dazed at the blossoming stains on the walkway. No, something sensible told him firmly, it most certainly wasn't. And as he'd turned to run, that's when the barbed ropes had lashed around his arms and tore into his armour like a cardboard box. 

And here he was. Being tortured by humans. He was new to the ways of the world, of course, but he was pretty sure that something about the scenario was slightly off. 

"Stop daydreaming," one of his captors barked, a tall female. "We asked you a question." 

"I told you, I don't _know_--" Doma threw his head back as the rope tightened. His wrist-armour had long since been worn to nothing -- the ropes were gnawing down to his metallic bones. 

"Maybe he doesn't know anything," said her companion, a male. "Security is obviously lax on the outside, but it's likely far more intense inside." 

"Which is why we have to know where X and Zero are," the female said grimly. 

"They'll be on their way soon, if they're not already. Chances are highest that they'll run into Kincaid's team in the garage. If we find them first, we'll just take it in stride." 

"No point in burdening ourselves, then." 

In a world hazed red with agony, Doma heard a faraway bird-call of mercy -- a weapon being unsheathed. And he saw it just before it bit his neck like it was butter, a blade of alien metal, a twisted hilt formed by two silver snakes twisting around each other to form a DNA helix, a slim, feminine hand drawing it across his throat. 

Better to have lived for a week, Doma thought as the clammy, dark curtain descended, than to never have lived at all. 

Sort of.

* * *

What is it about babies, Tess wondered as she hefted Paul on her shoulder, that they won't sleep at night? Were they secretly demons and black cats? Oh well, she wasn't so sleepy herself, and the warm night air was doing both of them good. Tess was actually feeling fantastic for the first time in a long time. Genesis was on the verge of clearing them both from the Medical Unit. 

Tess halted at a black blotch on the pathway, startling against the white stones. Her eye was dragged inexorably along a black trail that splotched down the path, ending at a pair of clawed feet. 

Tess slowly looked up. 

Standing quite near her were two blue Mechadrakes, a small pile of dead reploids between them. Two humans in unfamiliar uniforms stood alongside the 'drakes, and broke off their conversation when they felt Tess staring at them. 

Tess said nothing. 

One of the Mechadrakes touched his forehead in a salute. "Evening, ma'am." 

Tess turned on her heel and walked very quickly in the opposite direction. 


	25. Happy Hour

**Chapter 25: Happy Hour**

Four Mechadrakes mingled in Maverick Hunter Headquarters' visitor's lobby. 

It runs through your mind like some horrific children's alliteration, Nytetrayn thought as he quietly joined his brothers. The visitor's lobby, devoid of staff at this late hour, was a single, huge area tiled with marble and furnished with prim potted ferns and oversized leather chairs. 

"See that?" one dragon pointed at a chair. "Reploids were tearing up the human race, and babies were being born on rough, dirty blankets in the Refugee Camps during the first Maverick War, but God forbid Dr Cain ever had anything less than leather in his damned lobby." 

The other Mechadrakes grunted in distracted agreement. They were concentrating on trying to keep their footing on the slippery marble floor, which did not cooperate with their long claws. One big Silver finally gave up and swept his wings to hover a few inches off the floor. The tempest blew over a fern, and the pot vomited black soil and water on the stark floor as the Mechadrake settled on top of the Receptionist's long oak desk. Magazines and brochures rattled and fell as his companions followed his example, lighting on chairs and tables, digging into them with steel talons. Nytetrayn chose a coffee table, and it groaned loudly under his weight. Eight eyes turned to him simultaneously and the Silver cocked his slim head. "Nytetrayn? You're here? I thought Asmodeus sent you on another mission." 

"I finished it," Nyte said, praying inwardly that no one knew what Asmodeus had sent him to do. 

"I don't remember you flying with us for this assault." 

The table under Nytetrayn cracked in two, and he quickly spread his wings to keep from falling on his tail. He collected himself. "I only just finished, and Asmodeus sent word through Blackavar that I was to join you." Nyte paused, then took the risk. "In fact, I still need to be fully briefed." 

All four Mechadrakes sat deadly still, and their eyes glistened savagely. Nyte's heart sank. 

"I don't think I believe you," the Silver said slowly. "You always were a bit strange, Nytetrayn, what with hanging around that McTreggor boy and all. I don't see how Lord Asmodeus would trust you on a mission like this." 

"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not." Nyte inwardly steeled himself for a fight to the death, but then came a mighty, collective stirring inside of MHHQ. No alarms blared, but the Hunters had definitely noticed intruders and were silently dispersing through the building like the flow of blood gradually speeding up through the veins of a waking animal. The dragons lost their immediate interest in Nytetrayn and turned their heads in different directions to pick up the minute sounds of the Hunters' movement in the rooms around them. They were obviously trying for some degree of stealth, at least until they determined what the immediate situation was. Relief washed over Nytetrayn, though he kept his face and body rigid. His mouth worked quickly. "You're still going to need my help." 

The Silver threw Nyte an ugly glance and said in a low voice, "There is not much strategy involved here. We're simply to make ourselves known, and to retrieve Jody Loy and Celeste McTreggor, if it's possible. Asmodeus has decided that the war is best fought on our turf, so we're to get the Hunters interested in our movements." 

"They'll be interested, all right," said a female Black amusedly and she tensed in anticipation as Hunters came spilling into the lobby. "Hey!" she cried as Nytetrayn threw himself into the air and arrowed through a cluster of the armed reploids. Some of them fell over, unhurt, but a couple fired plasma cannons at the fleeing Mechadrake as he slipped through an open door. Nyte gasped in pain and wavered as a white-hot bolt of energy caught the end of his streaming tail, but the Hunters were quickly engulfed in a battle with the lobby Mechadrakes and he was forgotten. Except by the silver Mechadrake, who bellowed curses about treachery that followed Nytetrayn in his flight down the hall.

* * *

A bare-walled room that was as windowless and friendly as the Death Star. Celeste stretched on her cot and smiled a little. She'd been here before. Maybe not _this_ room specifically, but she'd been in the same situation; locked up tight for her own safety. When Torrent had called to her on one turbulent night during the era of the first Maverick War, it had proven impossible to resist his call to one-on-one battle. Though Celeste's mother didn't know anything about Torrent, she sensed that enough was off about her daughter that it would be better for her to be kept under observation. But Celeste had escaped ... by throwing her pet kitten, Matzah, down the hall, thereby distracting the guards. 

Endless wondering about _how_ she'd ever gotten away with an idea straight out of a ten-cent comic book still kept Celeste up at night. Matzah didn't visit her too often after that incident, but Celeste guessed his scarceness had less to do with a breech of trust and more to do with the fact that the cat grew up quickly and moved on to the important business of fathering about ten million kittens. 

_This isn't the way that my life is supposed to be,_ she thought to herself. She didn't feel any self-pity; it was just a fact. Her life to this point had been slightly troublesome. 

She'd nearly died as a child and now, bizarrely, had a price on her head as a result. Her parents had been chilly towards each other until her father outright died after besmirching his name. She was injured in a Maverick attack, she was almost destroyed by Torrent when she tried to finish what her father couldn't, and when it looked as if she might have a chance at a peaceful life with Zero ... well, only God could really sort out what was immediately going wrong with _that_, but among other things, the Crimson Hunter didn't seem interested in having her as a mate, despite his proposal during the first Maverick War. No, he hadn't said as much to her, but Celeste figured that people who were keen on each other talked occasionally. Zero had barely said three words to her since this wretched, hot summer began. And communicating with him was impossible. The Hunter, when she did see him, was as approachable as a bear with distemper. Something was on his mind, something massive. And, of course, Iris was back. Maybe he'd made a new decision. After all, Genesis had warned her that a human could never successfully be with a Reploid. She'd taken the risk anyway, and lost the game in the end. Who could she blame but herself? 

That was life, of course. Things changed. What was the use in feeling sorry for yourself? 

Celeste's stomach turned green and flopped when she suddenly thought about what dawn would bring. _Worrying_ about yourself was something else entirely. 

This was probably destiny. No, she'd never been very lucky. Luck wasn't much of a McTreggor trait. She'd accepted that a long time ago. In fact, sometime after she communicated with Torrent Leviathan for the first time, he revealed to her that she was the reason for her parents' hastily thrown-together marriage; there had been a bit of a moonlight flit in the back room of the banquet hall that Jake worked in at the time, and Silvia's family decided that there was no matchmaker like a swollen belly. This ignoble bit of her lowborn heritage was probably supposed to shock and upset Celeste when she heard it, but Celeste found it more amusing than anything. Torrent was disappointed; he was a crafty lizard, but despite his fondness for lurking in other people's minds, he could prove a poor judge of their hearts. Mechadrakes were oddly obsessed with old traditions like heritage. In this day and age, most humans who are conceived beyond the blanket usually care less in their daily quest for survival. 

But earlier that day, Celeste hadn't thought about Torrent's story with mirth. When she sat on the hard wooden bench with a grim-faced guard on either side of her and saw the look in her mother's eyes from across the interrogation room table, Celeste remembered what Torrent said, and knew her place in life. 

"I read your medical records," her mother said. 

Celeste said nothing. She looked at her hands spread on the table-top, and the grey jumpsuit sleeves that came halfway down to her wrists. It wasn't the uniform of a prisoner, but she knew the colour was supposed to keep her subdued, like soft blue walls in a nursery. She was disarmed; honour meant little at this point. 

"I think..." Silvia shifted in her chair and gripped her purse with both hands. Her blonde hair was clasped neatly behind her neck, and she wore about a gallon of the same perfume that hung in the air of the apartment Celeste had lived in as a child. "I think ... _they_ think ... that you have some troubles in your head, Celeste." 

"Like dad." 

"Like your fa--yes." Silvia patted the ponytail behind her. "And I understand that you were given the option to remain with the Hunters, provided you underwent treatment ... but you've refused the treatment." 

"I've refused to work with the doctor they offered me," Celeste said in a flat voice. 

"Celeste, that's not your call. I've talked to Dr Klein. He's a good doctor." 

"Dad didn't think so, when he met him." Celeste glanced up. "You weren't there, though." 

Silvia dodged the dagger by not looking into her daughter's eyes. "You could be troublesome, Celeste. I let you join the Hunters because I thought it would give you some discipline. But it looks like you have a history here, too." 

Celeste's defence died on her lips. 

"I can't bring you home in this state. You need a doctor ... and observation. I can't watch you 24 hours a day. I have your brother to look after. I think you might need to be ... put someplace. For a time." 

The Huntress scratched her nails across the table and started to say something. But then she lowered her head. "If it's good enough to get me out of your way." 

"Don't be like that, Celeste," Silvia snapped. "You're my daughter. I want you to get better." 

"Fine," Celeste almost whispered. 

Silvia hesitated for a second, then put her hand over Celeste's. Ice clenched ice. "We'll make arrangements tomorrow." 

So Celeste resigned herself to sitting quietly in her cell. She submitted to the grey uniform and the guards. She knew she was going to have to get used to it. 

She wondered what the other Hunters would say when they found out. Especially Zero. 

Night crawled across the hours like a black gun dog dragging its belly through the reeds.

* * *

"What's the score?" Zero asked X. 

"I don't know. I don't like to keep scores." 

"Well, that's a surprise." 

A dart hit the wall with a whizz and a thud. 

"I _do_ know that you have to hit the dartboard to accumulate anything like a score, though," X said mildly. 

"Score _this_, smartass!" Another dart glanced off X's armour and a couple of squiffed humans who were watching the game laughed jeeringly. 

"For the love of Holy Saint Joseph, will you all get out of my establishment!" Cass roared from behind the bar. "If Cain finds out you're all still here at this hour, he'll destroy me." 

X knew that drinking hours were long past, and he wasn't one to defy the rules. But when he looked at Zero standing beside him, cheerfully tossing darts at the pub's board, he knew he was doing the right thing. The Crimson Hunter seemed to have settled down a little over the past 24 hours. A bit of relaxation had cooled the feral glint in his eye, though worry pricked at X when he gathered the thrown darts and discovered that they were so firmly buried in the target that he almost had to wrench them free. 

"You all think I don't mean it?" Cass continued. "Ten minutes is all you have, and then I start swinging a pool cue." 

X resigned. "I think we better get going, Zero." 

"Mm. Too bad. I was having fun." He took the well-worn darts that X handed to him, and then he hesitated. "Thanks, X." 

"For what?" X said innocently. 

"You _know_ what. For everything. For standing by me. I've appreciated it." 

"You're speaking in the past tense." 

Zero didn't answer. He stared almost expectantly at the entrance of _Salamandastron's Illusion._

Hawkmoon 269 filled the doorway. The doelike silver Mechadrake swung her head from side to side to pick up the smells and sounds. The few humans remaining in the pub slumped over as if to avoid her keen radar. Cass sighed. 

"X and Zero?" Hawkmoon called out. It was only half a question. 

"We're here, Hawkmoon." Zero's voice was leaden. 

"As you shouldn't be. Cain has been trying to reach you in your rooms, and now we've wasted valuable time. I hope that you're at least armed." 

"We are," Zero said, and X looked at him in surprise. He recalled the start of the night, when he'd decided to remain in armour simply because Zero had been. He'd barely been conscious of the decision at the time. "Is there an emergency?" 

"Yes, a mildly fantastic one. Follow me, quickly. Cass, lock up the bar. Keep the humans safe in here, they're no good to anybody in their state." 

X and Zero exited the pub with Hawkmoon, and Cass regrettably locked the heavy, old-fashioned oak doors behind them. He didn't like being left out of events. "I hate you," he informed the drunk humans who kept him behind. "Every single last one of you. Your sisters are pigs and dogs." 

One human looked at his fellows. "Say, who could go for Cass frying up some pancakes right about now?"

* * *

While Cass was sealing up his bar, Lifesaver and Genesis were doing the same to their lairs. The Reploid Repair area was shut tight, and now the robot Medic was helping Genesis secure the Medical Unit. 

"None of you are to set one hair outside these doors," Genesis said to the humans behind him as he unfastened one of the Medical Unit's huge double doors. The hinges groaned and scraped before the blue metal door clicked in place and Genesis started on the next one. "Do you all hear me? There's a bit of a situation outside, and I'm responsible for all of you. I don't feel like sweeping up any broken bits of your asses and mailing the pieces back to your families." 

There weren't too many humans occupying the beds, and the few there had only been injured in minor training accidents. One tall Hunter with brown hair and a bandaged upper arm stood up. "Genesis, most of us are fine. What's going on? We can help fight." 

"No you bloody well can't. Sit down." 

"It's for your own safety," Lifesaver broke in more diplomatically as he secured a lock. Then he said to Genesis, "Is everybody accounted for?" 

"I have this ugly, ugly, feeling that I'm missing something that should be right in front of my nose." Genesis scanned the room and his darkened eyes fell upon a rumpled bedspread in front of him. He dropped his head back and sighed. "Yeah, I knew it." 

Lifesaver looked at the abandoned bed and tuned into Genesis' revelation. "Where's Tess and Paul?" he said in alarm. 

"A better question is, _where's Iris?_"

* * *

"They're in the lobby. They're in the garage. It's an infestation, and they're spreading." 

"Like cancer." 

"Thank you Zero. I can always count on you for grim imagery." 

Hawkmoon moved swiftly down the corridor that would take them to the lobby. X and Zero flanked her. Neither hunter knew what "they" were, and they waited for Hawkmoon to tell them. Instead, the silver Mechadrake said, "There's another platoon there, engaged in battle. We'll join them." 

"Is Monroe okay without you?" X asked. 

"Seven will protect him." She halted suddenly and her ears twitched back and forth. "Something's coming." 

Something indeed, something with the grace of an elephant smashing through underbrush. All three Hunters tensed, unhappy in the knowledge that they were bottlenecked in the narrow corridor. A certain degree of arrogance had gone into the construction of the first storey of MHHQ; thin hallways dotted with doors to conference rooms and offices fingered from the lobby and led to the Hunter's barracks, the training areas, the garage, and other facilities. It was difficult for re-enforcements to travel from one area of the building to another, and only the garage was built with mass Hunter dispatch in mind. Erected in a simpler time when Mavericks were a sparse threat, MHHQ was not built with mass invasion in mind. 

Especially not an invasion of-- 

"Good God, is that a _Mechadrake?_" Zero hissed. 

The cybernetic dragon was black, and he half-stumbled, half-ran down the corridor. Black blood was striped on his gold claws like the hide of a hornet, and his tail was missing a piece. The wound was rimmed with plasma burn. Zero's sharp breath hit the Mechadrake's ears, and he glanced up and stopped in his tracks. Something in his soul seemed especially to freeze at the sight of Hawkmoon. 

"Ah, piss!" 

Zero charged, and X followed only after a second's hesitation. The black Mechadrake turned to flee. At that moment, another Mechadrake, a huge silver, ducked his segmented neck through the door at the other end of the corridor. He pointed the severed arm of a Reploid like a dripping, sparking baton in the direction of the trapped black Mechadrake. 

_"Stop him! He's supposed to die!"_

Being a Reploid, Zero had never experienced anything like a fever, but from humans' descriptions, he knew that it had to be something like what followed the silver dragon's battlecry. Tangled in a sudden web of black wings, Zero's brain was doused in a thick haze. His body acted independently of his soul, unsheathing his lightsabre and slashing at the raven storm. Thick ropes of oily blood splashed on his face and washed over his hands, coating the handle of his lightsabre and turning it into butter. Zero's prey snarled in pain and a couple of times a sharp set of gnashing teeth clicked close to the Hunter's ear, but the attempt to fight back was feeble. His quarry was trying to escape, but Zero wasn't about to let him. Blood, blood. It squelched between his fingers as he gripped the hilt of his lightsabre, flecked his lips, and the fumes invaded his senses. 

The storm lifted, and Zero looked up to see the black Mechadrake rear above him, mouth agape in a silent scream of pain, neck jerking wildly like a sea-bird trying to cough up a stuck fishbone. Zero scrambled to his feet and saw X behind him, his smoking arm cannon still aimed at the invader. 

"Went down his throat," the blue Hunter said a little shakily. "He -- well, I didn't mean to cause him so much pain." 

"A hot drink," Zero grinned. 

Hawkmoon frowned. "He won't be able to talk to us for a while, if ever. Which is a shame, because I think--_watch the other one._" 

The strange silver Mechadrake tried to pounce on the black one, but the black outsider gathered himself quickly and bounded past X and Zero. Zero intervened the silver's chase, uncoiling like a viper to spear his sabre in the middle of the silver's gleaming neck. 

The Mechadrake struggled like a fish on a hook, working its slim jaws to try and pluck Zero from his grip. Blows glanced off Zero's helmet, and the silver cut its mouth and broke teeth on the sharp fins that adorned the Hunter's headpiece. A hailstorm of plasma suddenly leaped over Zero's shoulder and assaulted his enemy's shoulders and neck. The silver was obviously starting to feel fatigued as he tried to weave away from the attack without success. Finally, it swept its bladelike wings once and hovered just long enough to dislodge Zero by kicking him in the belly with his hinds legs. Zero thudded against the frosted glass door of a conference room, and a web of cracks skittered from the impact site like the trails of frightened bugs. 

"Zero!" X cried. 

"I'm fine," Zero gasped, shaking his head. The haze didn't clear, but he remembered a voice from a battle long past. "The stomach!" 

"What?" X said, and understood before he finished saying the word. He fired a charge shot at the gut of the reeling Mechadrake ... and it glanced off heavy plate armour. 

"I guess some of them are smarter than Red," Zero murmured, getting to his feet. He flung himself at the Mechadrake once more, who'd been distracted by X's fruitless attack. Instead of attacking from the front, the Hunter dug his sabre in a small patch of weaker metal plating under the drake's ribs, halfway to its hips. When the Mechadrake reeled around to attack Zero, the sabre wormed its way into its guts at a diagonal angle and the invader seemed to seize up in pain. Zero pushed the lodged sabre like a lever, and a deep trench burned into the Mechadrake's abdomen. Unworldly screams accompanied sizzling synthetic skin that barbequed like kebab. Blind swipes missed their target. Finally, the blade melted through the thick belly-plating and severed some of its clasps. The piece of armour swung on a bolt, and exposed soft flesh. 

X fired the final bullet. The Mechadrake keeled over, arms outstretched, claws carving into the marble like soap. Its broken mouth opened slightly and dribbled black fluids on the elegant battleground. The spark drained from its eyes. 

X drew in a breath. "For all the fighting I just did, I feel like I should know what's going on. But I don't." 

"Nice shot, though," Zero complimented him. He was sore and dented. "Ach, look at my helmet." 

"Vanity be damned," said Hawkmoon. "It's the Devil's jungle-gym." The slim silver Mechadrake had blood spattered on her front, and a few of her claws were chipped. 

"Are you okay, Hawkmoon?" 

"Fine," she said, sniffing at her soiled paws. "I tried to hold that black fellow, but he was like an eel with the way he was covered in blood. I'll go after him." 

"What's happening here?" Zero almost barked. "You know something." 

"I don't know any more than you do," Hawkmoon said cooly. Her milky eyes tinted her soul and made it impossible for Zero to detect if she was lying. "I _do_ know that there were several other Mechadrakes in the lobby. If they didn't arrive to help this wretched fellow at my paws, they've probably moved on by now. Do you think you'll be okay, you two?" 

"I'm not too bad off," Zero mumbled. "Just gotta aim for the belly." 

"Aim for the belly," Hawkmoon repeated with a solemn nod. 

X looked at the two as if they were sharing some ancient incantation that he had no part of. 

Zero tugged at the blue Hunter's shoulder, and the two continued towards the lobby. Hawkmoon turned and swiftly followed the trail of the black Mechadrake.

* * *

_Celeste..._

Celeste's eyes flew open. For a terrifying instant, she was imprisoned once again during the thick of the first Maverick War, and Torrent was calling to her-- 

_Celeste, where are you?_

But it wasn't Torrent this time. The voice in her head, though stricken, was almost warm and wrapped her in a blanket of memories that she wanted to throw her arms around. Who was it? Her father, surely. A nagging voice in the pit of her stomach assured her that it certainly was not. Celeste swallowed her doubt. 

_You're tired, my girl, and once again you're in trouble. But I think I can help you again._

Celeste got up from her bed and, after groping her way through the dark, pressed her palms against the heavy steel door of her room. It'd been a long time since she'd used Mindspeak, and she feared she was weak at communicating. 

_Relax. I'm on my way._

Celeste pressed her cheek against the cool metal and closed her eyes. She began to wait. 


	26. She Sells Sanctuary

Phoenix stood next to Vile on the crumbling rooftop of Doppler's old fortress and watched the sunset. She crossed her arms over her chest, a blazing goddess, kin of the fiery sun that threw out its last across the desolate wasteland. In his mismatched, patched armour, Vile looked like a broken peasant beside her ... except that the way the purple psychopath held himself was anything but subservient. No, in fact, he was reeking with pride. 

Phoenix let him get away with it until he started humming a little tune. She jerked her head around and glared at him. 

"I just want you to know, Vile, that I've seen some pretty stupid things come to pass since I started working with the Mavericks. There was that obsession that our soldiers had with board games, for example. And then there was the manner in which you got jumped by that human hootch and ended up in this state. Still, I think that you've truly touched the summit of Mount Retarded with that ... _Sting Sponge_ thing that you just unleashed upon the city." 

"Whatever is wrong with playing the hand we've been dealt, dear Phoenix?" 

"Like the Hunters are going to have a problem taking apart a Maverick that's already been half-digested?" 

"Oh, I think he's more formidable than that. He's got the most lethal qualities of two Mavericks in one body--" 

"Such as that godforsaken floppy pink flower that you saw fit to restore to his misbegotten head?" 

"Black humour." 

Phoenix expelled a small, angry sigh. Vile shifted a little on his feet, and a faint clattering sound pecked from inside his chest cavity whenever he moved. Nobody had really gotten around to retrieving Wheel Gator's lost peanut. 

Neither Maverick said anything for a long time. They were content to resent each other's company under the blackening canopy that gradually became flecked with stars. 

"Triumph will soon be ours, Phoenix," Vile said suddenly. 

Phoenix rolled her eyes to heaven. "This isn't gonna be that thing about ruling hell and Rubicant and the ten thousand maidens in silver chains at your feet, is it? " 

Vile picked up a beat-up radio that Phoenix hadn't noticed before, and drew up the antenna. "Reploids like yourself have not wrenched away from Death's clammy hand," he said tonelessly. "You have not developed the intuition that blesses creatures who defy their end." 

"Maybe not, but I _have_ been blessed with the bright eyes and good looks of someone who has managed to stay in one piece for her whole life." 

Vile ignored her and fiddled with the tuner on his radio. He was rewarded with an unending shriek of static, but it didn't discourage him. 

Phoenix grimaced. "What, have a craving for Country, or something? We're not going to get anything. We put up jammer towers so that the Hunters would have a harder time finding us, remember? To make up for our busted force field?" 

Vile grabbed the topic at hand and ran in the opposite direction. "It's time for us to let slip the dogs of war." 

"When you say 'dogs', you mean those miserable curs that you cobbled together out of spare Maverick parts, right?" 

"They are hybrids, Phoenix. Questing Beasts." 

"'Questing Beasts' my ass." Phoenix threw her glance back out to the barren mountains that surrounded Doppler's old fortress like a cancerous tumour. "See those mountains, Vile? Not too far beyond those, the Maverick Hunters have themselves this cosy little place. Much nicer than this dump, I'm sure. All it'll take is for one of your tin soldiers to get captured and talk under pressure, and the Hunters will be knocking on our door in no time. No, forget that, all it'll take is for the Hunters to put two and two together. I'll give them credit that they're capable of _that_ much, seeing as how they've managed to wring our necks about a thousand times, and we've managed squat." 

Vile didn't look up from his radio. "And what did you propose, my Phoenix?" 

"That we hide here and live out our disgusting lives as quietly as possible. We had a chance with Bass' journal, but it's gone now, along with Overdrive Ostrich." 

"Mmm," Vile murmured. "Here's what _I_ propose." Vile held the radio out to her, and the phoenix took it. She frowned as she held it up to her ear. Nothing but static. The purple reploid was officially loony. It was time to -- 

Phoenix froze as the static ripped apart for a bare second. _"What?_ Did I just hear--" 

"Shh. It's a distress broadcast. You have to listen closely, but it's playing now." 

Phoenix strained. She couldn't tell if she was listening to a distress call or a public broadcast, but she was definitely sure she heard some incriminating bits of vocabulary. 

"It's the Hunters," Vile said helpfully. "They're under attack." 

"Under _attack?_" Phoenix pulled back the radio and stared at it like a magic lamp. "...By _us?_" 

Vile laughed jeeringly. "By a pack of useless curs, right? No, no. They're being invaded by unknown forces. Didn't you listen?" 

"I tried," said Phoenix, "but I couldn't hear much about who's attacking them." 

"Oh, that's the best part. Humans." 

"Horseshit!" 

"It's true." 

Phoenix stared at the former Hunter for a minute, then put the radio down beside her. She crossed her arms over her chest and breathed deeply. 

"...So. What's your proposal?" 

"Nothing special," Vile shrugged. "Just a return to our roots. What makes us 'Mavericks?'" 

"Accepted theory is that we can't help being our bad widdle selves," Phoenix snorted. "Supposedly, we have a glitch that makes us susceptible to a virus that fries our brains." 

"Let's put the liberal hippie doctrine aside and rephrase the question. What made _Sigma_ a Maverick?" 

"Oh, that's easy. He just couldn't embrace the gift of life if he was on his hands and knees, scrubbing toilets for some human who kicked him in the rear end whenever he wasn't working hard enough." 

Vile chuckled. "I don't think Sigma was ever that lowborn. He had quite a high position in human society, for a time." 

"Of course," Phoenix said. "But the metaphor still stands. The iron rule of Nature dictates that the strong barbeque the weak. And we reploids are as strong as they come. The very idea of us being ordered around by a dying race of walking water skins is probably giving Mother Earth an aneurysm as we speak. Sigma realised that." 

"Which is why Sigma was so adamant about wiping out the human race," Vile finished for her. "We're Maverick because we subscribe to Sigma's newsletter, virus or no virus. We kill humans." 

"We did. Once." 

"And that's the problem. We've lost sight of our original goal. Lately, we Mavericks spend all our energy trying to trip up the one organisation who can stop us from doing what we're born to do -- and that's the Maverick Hunters." Vile spread out his hands. "We're obsessed with the big picture." 

"With good reason, Vile. As I said, the Hunters are considerably stronger than us. If we hurt any humans, they'll sniff us out." 

Vile motioned to the radio that was still hissing like bacon in grease. "Unless they've got bigger things to deal with, yes?" 

"Bigger things..." Phoenix said slowly. She fell silent for a few seconds, and nodded. "I see." 

"We can't do much in our state, no. But Sigma will be back--" 

"He already was once, while you were taking your junkyard nap," Phoenix grinned. "He screwed up colossally because he misjudged the sparkly power of _love_ and _friendship._ There was this whole thing with the Hunters and these wankers called Repliforce and a phallic cannon in space." 

Vile jerked back a little in surprise. "Well ... how many humans died?" 

"Not enough." 

"You see? This is what I'm talking about--" 

Phoenix scratched the underside of her beak. "Of course, if Sigma had succeeded, we _all_ would have been dust." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Sigma tried to use the cannon to blow up the whole planet. With all of us on it, human and reploid alike." 

"_What?_ What did he do that for!" 

"Because he's plumb loco!" Phoenix barked. "He's useless to us now. All that matters to him are the Hunters, not the rise of the Reploid race. Why do you think I've been wallowing in despair and hopelessness these past years? Why do you think I'm ready to help you ressusitate the original Maverick oath?" 

Vile sucked in his breath and looked up at the night sky. Then he chuckled a little. "When I said that today's Mavericks are obsessed with wiping out the Hunters ... I had no idea how dire the situation is." 

"Surprise," Phoenix muttered. "Anyway, I can take a guess at your plan. The cat's away, the mice will play, etc. Can the mongr -- _Questing Beasts_ get all the way to the city while the Hunters are preoccupied?" 

"Yes. The latest batch is built for speed as well as strength. I don't know how or why, but the Hunters have a serious distraction on their hands. I can't win a war, but I can take an opportunity to cull a few humans when it's given to me." 

"How did you know the Hunters were going to be attacked by outside forces?" 

"Destiny," Vile said simply. "Intuition. As I said before, I've been touched by Death and now know certain things. Azriel came before me in a dream, and--" 

"_Stop_, stop stop stop stop." Phoenix held up a hand. "That's enough. I believe you, and I will follow you. Again. I think I need to get my CPU air-blasted for even _thinking_ of going through this circus act again ... but for some reason, I feel confident. Hell, I feel _great._" 

"This time, we won't fail," Vile said without grandeur. He was simply stating a fact.

* * *

Caillou leaned against the doorjamb of Eden's lesser Medical centre at the bottom of the tree, his cropped ear still bleeding furiously. The head doctor, Ison, raised an eyebrow at the blood that streaked down Caillou's wrist and forearm as the boy tried to staunch the bleeding with his hand. 

"Sit," the doctor ordered, and Caillou moved like a dog to almost collapse on one of the beds in the small room. Ison pulled down his hand and whistled at the mess. 

"Yeah," Caillou mumbled. 

Ison's seamed white brow crinkled further as he mopped up the outsider's ear and neck with damp towels. "How did you ever manage to do _this?_" 

"I didn't. Asmodeus did." 

"Oh!" Ison gave Caillou a final dab on the side of his head. "Well, in that case, best be on your way, boy." 

"Am I still bleeding?" 

"Lord yes. There're some pretty big arteries in the ear. Go on." 

Caillou slowly pulled himself up from the bed and left the Medical centre. He glanced back to see Ison changing the sheets he'd been sitting on. Slowly, with a sopping towel stil stuck to the side of his head, he began to trudge up the Great Tree's spiraling catwalk. 

There was only one place left to go for help.

* * *

Aiden Spar sat at the doorway of his warren, sipping strong tea and thinking about nothing in particular. Traffic was low in his particular branch, so to speak, of the Great Tree; being a retired warrior, he had pleasant quarters near the top of Eden, quite close to the surface world. 

Aiden's wife, Kathleen, joined him outside of the warren. He nodded at her as she stood beside him with her own cup of tea. After a couple of quiet sips, she sat down next to her husband and hooked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. 

Aiden kissed the top of her head. "You feeling okay?" 

"Mm. I was just getting ready for our company." 

Aiden took another sip of tea and didn't ask, even though no visitors were in immediate sight. He'd been married to Kathleen long enough to know. 

Five minutes passed, and Kathleen stood up a few seconds before Aiden caught sight of some stricken creature lurching towards them. Then he stood up as well, unconsciously liberating his rifle at the same time. He took a better look at what was coming, and a cold grin seeped out to the corners of his mouth. 

"Well, well, _well!_" 

Caillou flicked his eyes up at Aiden. 

"Maybe you can help me, boy." Aiden said as he holstered his rifle, but not his barren smile. "Haven't seen my daughter around lately. Maybe you know something about that?" 

"Grandfather--" 

"Don't call me that. Really. Don't." 

"I don't know where she is," Caillou whispered, shifting his bloody towel and struggling to keep his voice steady. "I need her. I..." 

Kathleen kneeled on the catwalk and draped one arm over her knee. Caillou looked at her, then Aiden, and his eyes hardened. 

"No. To hell with this. To hell with you both." 

Caillou didn't even have time to turn around before Aiden jumped him. He landed a punch on the side of his face that made something in the boy's jaw snap like a tiny twig. Pain prodded Caillou like a cattle brand, and he retaliated furiously, delivering an uppercut to Aiden's chin before he kneed his grandfather in the stomach. 

Then a hand closed around Caillou's upper arm and after the world jerked violently on its axis he suddenly found himself on the ground, his injured ear burning as if doused in cold fire. Fighting to keep from being sick, he struggled against his grandfather's boot, which pinned his sweating neck to the freezing catwalk steel. 

"Not a smart move, pup," Aiden said flatly. "The windpipe is a pretty fickle tube. Tends to swell shut under the slightest pressure." 

Caillou slowed his struggles, and Aiden's boot lowered with the ease of a man pressing a gas peddle. Caillou finally grit his teeth and stopped fighting. 

"That's a little better," Aiden nodded down at him. "I'm going to let you up now, but you're not going to talk like that to me or your grandmother ever again. If you do, I'll throw you over the side of the catwalk, and I don't think anyone'll write any ballads for you. Do you understand?" 

"Yes." Caillou hissed the word. 

Aiden withdrew his boot, and Caillou shakily stood up. He pressed his hand to his still-dripping ear and swayed slightly. 

"Caillou," Kathleen called to him. She'd remained kneeling calmly on the ground during the row and when he looked at her, she stared back with small, dark eyes that glittered questions like a curious birds'. 

"I don't know where my mother is," Caillou suddenly blurted. "I don't!" 

Kathleen held out one arm. Caillou plunged into her embrace and broke down into sobs as he pressed against his grandmother's shoulder, smearing her neck with saltwater and blood. 

Aiden was disgusted. "What a display. Not even girls cry. You're weak, like your cur of a father." 

"Your poor ear," Kathleen mourned as delicately felt at the scrap of cartilage and skin that still dangled where Asmodeus' katana had cleaved. Caillou growled in pain and jerked his head away. Kathleen took his hand and started to lead him into the warren. 

"Here now--" Aiden began, but neither his wife or his grandson paid any attention as they disappeared into the room. 

"Weak," he murmured. 

"Aiden, we need you in here for a moment," Kathleen called out to him. 

Aiden stuffed his hands into his pockets and slouched back into the warren.

* * *

In the dark, sleepy cool of four a.m., it's hard to believe that the sun will ever rise and prod everybody out of their beds. Sam sat on the curb of a local Tim Dunkin's and chewed on a wooden stir-stick as he thought regretfully about the upcoming noise and heat of the day, and the rush-hour traffic he would have to struggle with soon as he made his deliveries. 

He tossed his empty coffee cup into the deserted parking lot before he stood up and fished for his keys. His fingers froze in his pocket when he happened to look up and see a winged, metal monstrosity roosting on the roof of his van like a twisted archangel, glaring at him with huge, deep-sea eyes. 

Sam slowly pulled out his keys, but his fist fell limply to his side. "You ... are you a goddamned _flying seahorse?"_

The spindly, reptile-like Reploid unfurled and stood at his full height, his whip of a tail lashing against the side of the van and shattering one window. "Maybe." 

"Uh ... _why?_" 

"Because I'm needed." 

Sam stared. The reploid stared back, the parking lot lights etching it with a soft white aura. The first morning birds began to twitter. 

"W-What do you want?" 

"I want to see you dead." 

The reploid bounced off the roof and threw out his wings. Sam received a clawed foot to his pudgy face and his worries about rush hour traffic were over. 

Toxic Eagle chuckled slowly as fresh air wafted past his snorkel-like muzzle. He drank his new life like wine. Broken glass sparkled around him like a dragon's horde. 

"Dead. All of you. Laying in the muddy ground. But cold concrete will do." 

Ratty blue wings stirred the morning air, and the hunt was on.

* * *

"Hold still." 

A quick bolt of pain flickered through Caillou's ear, and then he was staring at half his ear as Aiden held it out to show him as if it were a newly-pulled baby tooth. Caillou automatically reached up to the side of his head, but Kathleen came from behind and gently pulled his arm down before she pressed something against the side of his head. Something that stung. Caillou gasped a curse and a heavy hand caught him on top of his skull. 

"Mouth like a sewer," Aiden muttered. "That's what comes of gutterblood." 

"This'll stop the bleeding," Kathleen said. "Hold it there for a while." 

Kathleen left him to attend to a pot of boiling water, and Caillou studied his grandfather in quick, submissive snatches. Aiden leaned against the wall and puffed out an exasperated breath. His black brow was shiny with a thin sheet of sweat. Kathleen seemed to be at the complete opposite of the colour spectrum; she was almost ghostly pale. Working calmly, she placed a mug and a bowl on the table beside Caillou, and started to mop at the dirt and blood on his face. 

"How's that ear doing?" 

Caillou removed his compress, and Kathleen nodded in approval. "Good. It's stopped bleeding." 

Silence reigned over the warren as Kathleen continued to clean up Caillou, other than one instance where the older woman said, "Hands, please." Caillou presented them, and those were wiped off as well. 

"Good." Kathleen pointed to the mug steaming beside him. "Drink," she ordered. 

Caillou had no idea what the cup contained. It tasted like some sort of meat broth, but before he was even finished, a warm sleepiness drifted over him and his troubles and pain pushed off like a boat across a pond. He put the mug down and sleepily cradled his head in his arms. 

"God, look at him," Kathleen whispered from a faraway cloud. "He looks so much like Ange." 

"Fortunately for him," Aiden snorted before the world around Caillou closed shop.

* * *

"Zero!" 

"X!" the Crimson Hunter panted when he saw his friend run up beside him. "You're okay!" 

"Worried?" X asked, pressing his back against Zero's as the two warily crept down the battle-ravaged corridor. Moving like some awkward beast, they stepped over a freshly-dispatched black Mechadrake. X missed his step and jostled against Zero's shoulder a little. Zero hissed and X glanced backwards at his friend. 

"Holy--! What happened to your shoulder?" 

"Oh, black Mechadrakes do this nifty trick where they can spit acid," Zero said sourly. "Did you know?" 

"I do now." 

"I've had lessons galore since you and I got separated. Here, I think we're safe for now." 

X and Zero broke apart and looked around, a little dazed. The scorched, bloody corridor looked like a damaged artery. X wordlessly pointed at a particularly huge hole in the wall near the exit. 

"That was when I tossed the slippery little bastard off my back," Zero said cheerfully, but he was clearly nearing his limit. His damaged shoulder was a hardened blob of metal and it only called attention to the various nicks, cuts and dents that crisscrossed his body. 

"Zero ... what exactly is happening, here?" 

"I don't know." The Hunter placed a hand on the doorknob of the exit that would lead them into the Garage. "But if anything bad comes of it, I'm glad I won't die a dog's death." 

He entered the Garage, and the smell of motor oil and tires hit him even before he noticed the human boy and the red Mechadrake standing like totems in the centre of the huge area. X tensed up immediately at the scene. He aimed his arm cannon at the dragon. "Let him go, Maverick!" 

The Mechadrake and the boy glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes before the boy crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the Hunter cooly. "He's my friend, you 'bomination." 

"Oh, I can't wait to hear _this_ one explained," Zero said. "That Mechadrake there's your friend?" 

"My friend and steward." 

"He's missing a ear. Did you know?" 

A soft growl began to grind in the Mechadrake's stomach, and the boy said nothing. 

"Nevermind." X drew back his cannon a little, but his body remained ready. "What do you want? Did you ... er, stage this attack? Somehow?" 

"Maybe you were mad at your mom for putting you to bed early?" Zero offered, and X elbowed him with his free arm. 

"My name's Kincaid," the boy said tonelessly, "and this is Niner." 

"Sixty--" Zero began to whisper, and X's elbow ended up in his ribs again. 

"We'll kill you," Kincaid continued in a louder voice, "and then we'll be on our way." 

Confused silence filled the huge garage to the brim. 

"Er ... ah..." X loosened up a bit and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think there might be a mistake. See, you're a _human_ and we're _Maverick Hunters._ We hunt Mavericks, who want to hurt boys and girls such as yourself. See?" 

"I know precisely what you are. Bastard offspring of lost lambs." 

"Did he just seriously say that without laughing?" Zero asked X out of the corner of his mouth. 

"We are the Inheritors of Eden, and we call upon our birthright to erase mankind's mistakes and allow him a new start." 

"'Inheritors of Eden?'" Zero was suddenly alert. "We captured that boy, Blake, about a week and a half ago and he mentioned -- _whoacrap!_" 

In the space of a second, Zero was suddenly dealing with a barbed steel cable lashing around his knee and a red Mechadrake closing its jaws uncomfortably close to the side of his face. In fact, Zero narrowly missed becoming the Phantom of the Headquarters by Kincaid's snakelike weapon, which jerked him away to one side just in time. 

But not much can keep a veteran from reaching his weapon in the heat of a battle. Zero unsheathed his lightsabre and ripped it through his restraint. At the same time, Niner's misshapen head thrashed backwards and the Mechadrake bellowed when a burning hailstorm of plasma pelted his face and neck. 

Zero hit his stride instantly, quickened by the familiar, comforting smell of plasma and ozone working in tandem. Kincaid abandoned his damaged rope, unsheathed a wickedly familiar dagger, and lunged. Zero braced himself, and wasn't prepared when the boy streaked past him and threw himself at X instead, jumping up and hooking an arm around the Hunter's neck like some perversion of a child flinging himself happily on a favourite adult. Momentum swung Kincaid around and he plunged his dagger into X's back as neatly as scissors cut ribbon. 

"Oh, god _damn_ it!" Zero half-screamed as the Crimson hunter watched X's eyes widen in surprise, and at the same time he remembered the virus that Cass had been infected with. Zero pounded over to his friend, and received a face full of red scales. Something burning-hot fell on his neck, followed by what felt like a dozen piercing with fiery daggers. The ground rapidly dropped from under his feet and Zero realised very quickly that he was literally as helpless as a kitten being carried in its mother's mouth. Its psychotic, one-eared mother. 

Zero stabbed his sabre upwards and let the wheel of fortune fly. 

A colourful scream of "OW! My bloodydamn _nose!_" accompanied Zero on his rapid trip to the ground. The Hunter landed neatly on the tips of his toes and the fingers of his left hand, his weapon still burning hungrily in his right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw X engaged in a wrestling match with Kincaid. Fine. Good. 

Niner dropped his paws from his gushing snout. Black blood fouled his snarl and drops whapped Zero in the face when the Mechadrake lunged at him with a bellow. He managed a healthy swipe across Zero's face that nearly put out the same eye he'd just gotten repaired after his encounter with Sting Sponge. With his body thick in the heat of battle-fever, Zero's mind took a small break and drudged up the memory of his repair job, and Lifesaver's disapproval. 

_Monroe specifically told me that I'm not to treat you until you get your scanning done, Zero. Did you tell him about this attack? Why ever not? I'll help you this time, but I can't do this again..._

Sure, why not. One more thing to hide. His past, his emotions, and now his boo-boos. Irritation surged in Zero, and his sabre ripped across Niner's silver breastplate as the Mechadrake's claws cleaved his skin. 

"I don't mind looking like a dog tried to drag my face home," Zero said, craning his neck around to speak in Niner's bloated wound of an ear. "At least I'm not dead." 

And his sabre nuzzled into the intruder's exposed belly.

* * *

"X?" 

X kneeled in a jigsaw puzzle of wrecked vehicle parts, his back to his friend. A ripped wound bled between his trembling shoulder blades and he held something in his arms. 

"X, are you hurt?" 

"No," X mumbled. Then he seemed to consider something. "Not ... not in the usual way." 

Crunching slowly through the debris, Zero knelt behind his friend. "Come on. Show me," he said like a parent coaxing a child to give over a deceased pet. 

X slowly twisted round and unfurled his arms. Kincaid lay in them silently, one side of his face a bloody, swollen mess. 

"Hm," Zero grunted. "Is he dead?" 

"No. Just ... really, really hurt." 

"Same could be said for you, X." 

The azure Hunter was crosshatched with knife swipes and stabs on his face, his body, and his hands. He sighed. "He was quick. Never saw anything like it. I couldn't reason with him, so I knocked him down. Took a few tries." 

Zero felt the boy's pulse and remembered Blake. "Not surprised." 

"He still fought even after I tackled him and he smashed his head on the floor. I figured I had to knock him out, so I got him in the cheek." X's eyes grew wide. "His bones ... I barely felt them against my fist before they just ... _collapsed._ I've never felt anything like it. I never want to again." 

"Well ... it's not a feeling I've forgotten, either." 

"God above," X whispered. "We can kill humans so easily. We can utterly destroy them, if we wanted to." 

"As four bloody wars have proven," Zero responded wryly. He stood up. "He's stable, and after he's treated, he'll be quite all right. For a time. He has information we need, I'm sure. We can kill humans, X, but this fellow is no ordinary human." 

"Ordinary or not, I never thought I'd see the day where I had to raise my hand against one." X hauled himself to his feet shakily. He stared down at Kincaid. "Though we've seen some bad things in these wars, I never thought it'd ever come to this. I'm supposed to protect humans, not fight them." 

"Come on, X. We'll take him to Genesis, and you need to see Lifesaver." 

"You were right, Zero. We've gone wrong somewhere. This boy's turned bad because at some point, I didn't do enough to help him. Or his friends. Or his parents. Or ... Good Jesus, who knows." 

Zero put his bleeding hand on his friend's battered shoulder and together they waded back to the wrecked corridor. 


	27. Stolen

**Chapter 27: Stolen**

She moved like a doe, Caillou decided as he set his chin on his folded arms, even when she was just sitting down for dinner. One of the does who lived in the Hollow by the Eden's river.

Caillou tried not to think about the untouched plate of venison beside him.

He was too distracted to eat, anyway. He could subsist on watching this girl and the long brown hair that she kept swept up high. Caillou had seen her let it down before. It cascaded to the middle of her back when it was free and lightened her green eyes.

Eyes that looked right through him, of course. They were both part of the Diamondbacks, and she didn't speak to him. Caillou grunted irritably. He'd dealt with loneliness before by keeping his mind clear, but lately his heart had been aching, and it was hard to ignore.

"Sit up straight," came a voice behind him, and Caillou instantly unfolded on the hard mess hall bench. His Captain put his own food on the table and sat down beside him.

Caillou pried his eyes away from the girl looked off in the other direction, but his Captain speared a piece of meat with his knife and said, "You have a better chance of flying."

Caillou shrugged. The Captain gulped a mouthful of tea and looked at him from the corner of his eye. "Been doing some ... thinking lately, have you?"

"Guess I have."

The Captain set his mug down and chuckled, not unkindly. "Passion can even run through the dead, I suppose."

"Dead, huh?" Caillou said blankly, staring straight ahead.

"That's what Eden considers you. In my eyes, you're a dead soldier. I'm supposed to regard you as canon fodder, if anything. But really, you're not a bad kid."

"Well, this is definitely the first time you've talked to me like I existed."

"Insubordination, boy, insubordination." The Captain said lazily before he polished off the last of his tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But no matter. I'm going to have a talk with Asmodeus about you. You're obviously a bit of a late bloomer, but if you're starting to take notice of certain things in the world, we'd best be dealing with it before anything happens. Right?"

Caillou clenched his fork in his fist. "No! That's--"

"That's what?"

"That's ... not right."

"Hah!" The Captain barked heartily, leaning back from his empty cup. "What a childish thing to say. What bothers you?"

"I want someone," Caillou said in a low half-growl. "Like everybody else. I want a friend, a companion. I want someone to protect. I want a reason to serve Eden's purpose."

The Captain swept up his plate and patted Caillou on the shoulder. "You're a ghost. You walk by yourself. Sorry boy, I don't make the rules."

"Lord," Caillou hissed when he was alone. He slouched over his table and ran his fingers slowly through his thick black hair before he clenched at a handful. A ghost couldn't touch the world around it, but he could. A ghost could, however, use terror to make the living yield to it, and he could do that much. Nothing could be done to ease his loneliness. But he could strike from a shadow, pull his quarry into the darkness and sate his craving to hold somebody and feel a heart beat furiously against his own, even if that heart was hammering in terror--

Caillou's blood froze. What a thing to think.

"Better be careful," his mother's voice filled the mess hall. "The wolf's in your blood--"

* * *

Aiden looked down thoughtfully at his sleeping grandson. He knew that Kathleen had given him a mild sedative -- Aiden himself had received it a few times when he got badly injured during rougher training sessions or scouting missions -- but the boy still tossed and turned in his sleep.

"What's he dreaming about?"

Kathleen stopped her tidying up of the warren long enough to peer at Caillou over her husband's shoulder as casually as someone might scan the sky for rain. "Nothing good."

"Want to get specific?"

"You care about the boy?"

"After what you and I discussed, it might be a good idea to start," Aiden said in a low voice.

"Best leave him to his privacy. You don't need me to decide if you're going to help him."

"Lovely," Aiden murmured. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed he shared with Kathleen. Caillou, bundled carefully in the bed's blankets, grunted in his sleep as the resulting shockwave jolted his dreams.

"Wake up, boy."

Caillou's eyes flicked open and darkened at the sight of Aiden. Aiden stared back just as hard, and blue silently grappled with brown for a minute before the veteran broke away. He reached for Caillou's wrist and looked at it.

"So then," Aiden said at last, running his dark thumb over the tight, tarnished metal of Caillou's Ouroborus Band. "This is what comes of my bloodline, eh?"

"Looks like."

Aiden dropped his grandson's arm as if it were coated in disease. He looked down at his lap and drummed his fingers on his knee.

"Kathleen says that you can't help your lineage," he mumbled, "and that blood is blood, no matter what. Fair enough, but _I_ can't help feeling a little upset at the fact that my only child is dead, and all that's left to carry on my name is a simpering outcast. Except that you won't even be able to carry on my name, because the band makes you sterile. My blood has dried up. Understand?"

"I do." Caillou pulled his arm back under his blanket. "And I hope that _you_ understand my being a little upset at hitting rock bottom, being refused help at every turn, and having to depend on a grandfather who never wanted anything to do with me, and isn't about to start now."

"Of course I understand. This kind of thing runs two ways, after all. You're a bit wrong on one matter, though."

"What do you mean?"

Aiden rubbed his cold hands together. As he got older, the natural chill of Eden's warrens seemed to grip his re-mended bones with an increasingly severe hand. "Ange was our only child, Caillou. We tried for more, but it never happened. I guess it's some sort of flaw in our genes. Your mother was married once, you know. Before you were born. She never kindled during that time, either."

"She was married?" Caillou said in surprise. "What happened to her husband?"

"He was a viper. Metaphorically and literally. He was a cruel waste of life and he had no neck, besides." The warrior grinned. "Not Eden's finest example of breeding. But I'm noticing that a lot of flaws have wormed into the gene pool. Asmodeus has waited too long, I think."

Caillou's eyes widened further and he started to say something, but Aiden held up a hand.

"Just keep quiet and listen to me. Your mother's husband -- his name was Holden -- died. Died, and good riddance to him. A couple of years later, Ange met Jake, and as you've no doubt been made aware, certain things happened."

Caillou nodded slowly.

"Well, probably to her great surprise, Ange got pregnant. She tried to hide it for obvious reasons, but that sort of thing can only be hid for so long. After nine months in the oven, you were born in this same bed that you're lying in." Aiden wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. "That was a bad time for all of us. Kathleen and I had never said anything to Ange about her being in a family way, and she never told us. In fact, she avoided us. I guess we all stupidly figured that if we didn't acknowledge the problem, it would go away. But when the moment arrived -- in the thick of the quiet hours, thankfully -- she came to us, begging for help. What am I supposed to do when my only child is in distress? Knock on Asmodeus' door and report her? He would've liked that. As a Warrior of Eden, I'm supposed to have nothing to do with anything that might upset the chemistry of the hive ... say, a woman who's about to deliver an unwanted visitor, regardless of whether or not she's my daughter."

Caillou sat up a little straighter, and Aiden regarded him for a second. He _was_ a handsome boy, and there was no mistaking the potential that was coiled in his muscles and broad shoulders. Aiden rubbed his aching knees and sighed as he thought about the young, scared boy who used to cling to Ange's hand and stare at Eden with huge eyes. That boy had cried whenever Aiden looked at him. There was a different boy here, now, a boy who still cried, but not before he kneed Aiden and winded him quite badly.

"So we helped Ange. Took her in. But it was a problematic delivery, and Dr Ison had to get involved." Aiden nodded at Caillou's cropped ear. "As you've probably come to realise, the man is a good doctor, but he serves Eden first. Though Asmodeus would've found out about you sooner or later, Ison made sure it was sooner. Asmodeus sent Torrent Leviathan to fetch you."

"Torrent," Caillou repeated slowly.

"Do you know him? He was a Mechadrake, and Second in Command to Asmodeus. The two had an argument of some kind, and split off ages ago. It was for the best, I say. Torrent seemed to treat humans very dismissively. He was in charge of the Mechadrakes, and that's all he cared much about. Asmodeus works with care when he pairs up mates, for example, but it was Torrent who gave Ange to Holden after about two seconds of thought." Aiden grimaced. "Anyway. Torrent came to get you a few hours after you'd been born..."

* * *

Torrent Leviathan leisurely wound his way up the path like a cat on no particular business, his claws scratching and clinking on the metal with every slow step. The retired warriors who occupied the top floor of Eden stuck their heads out of their doors, saw what approached, and dropped their eyes before disappearing into their rooms again, sealing themselves against what was to come.

Torrent stopped outside of the one door that was still open. "Well now," he called out cheerfully. "Where ever is the warren of the Spar family?"

Aiden stepped up to the door, looked up at the Mechadrake and silently crossed his arms over his chest.

"Thank you, Aiden," Torrent said with a cutting grin as he seized the warrior's head in one paw and shoved him aside roughly, revealing a small room that held a girl in a bed who looked like she was about ready to take tea with the Reaper.

"Well now, something's missing." Torrent scratched the underside of his snout with a claw. "Two somethings, actually." He ducked into the warren and cursed loudly when the low doorway clipped the top of his head. Rubbing at the sore spot, his grin stalked across his face once more. "This place stinks of mammal birth. Where're you hiding the little burden?"

Aiden and Torrent both turned their eyes to Kathleen, who emerged seemingly out of nowhere. Her face was calm, but her arms were locked around the small bundle she held. "We're not hiding anything, milord. But you're not hurting a newborn baby."

"Come now, Kathleen. We can do this the easy way, or we can get knee-deep into the nasty, confrontational stuff."

Kathleen squared her shoulders, and Torrent made to move towards her, one claw outstretched. Aiden immediately fired his pistol, and a sharp sizzle and hiss preceded a curse of pain from Torrent. "Dad!" Ange screamed in a whisper from her bed. "You're crazy!" She struggled to sit up, but Aiden didn't take his eyes off the heaving, snarling Leviathan in front of him as he barked "Sit still, girl!"

"Stupid, stupid wastes of life," Torrent foamed, marking all of them and clutching his burnt arm. "Aiden! You should have kept still. You don't think I know? You don't think you're so damn clever that I couldn't figure out that you killed your daughter's husband?"

Aiden tensed and narrowed his eyes. Ange made a small sound, and Kathleen stood as still as a hunted rabbit.

"A hundred-year-old monkey gone senile with syphilis could've figured it out, you telephone pole!" Torrent cackled. His tail suddenly struck out and cracked Aiden in the shins. The warrior buckled in pain and the Mechadrake slammed his talons into Aiden's back.

"I don't think Asmodeus'll miss you too much. Your whole line's kind of sad and impotent, really." Torrent indicated the baby with his snout. "Except when it doesn't matter."

The Mechadrake ground his foot harder into Aiden's back and the warrior felt the air bleed out of his lungs. Feebly, he lifted one hand off the ground, then let it sink again.

"Too bad you can't breathe through your fingers, eh?" Torrent said amusedly before he suddenly buckled sideways. His head cracked on the corner of Ange's bedstead, and Ange seemed to tap into a hidden well of strength as she moved quickly to avoid the hideous serpentine face from landing in her lap. Torrent lay still, except for the hiss of air that rasped in and out of his wide-open mouth.

"What the hell?" Kathleen inquired three heavy seconds later.

Aiden's breathing was as voluminous as Torrent's. He clutched his ribs and managed to get up on one knee. "Thank God that friggin' lizard didn't fall _on_ me."

Kathleen ran to her husband and shifted Ange's baby to one arm before she helped Aiden get on both his knees. "What did you do?"

Aiden panted and looked at Torrent, directing Kathleen's eyes to the small silver shard sticking out of the Leviathan's right foot.

"Is that part of a circuit-stinger?"

"I figured, the knives we all carry contain a virus that are able to take down a Reploid, right? Filthy Mechadrakes like Torrent wouldn't be immune. I couldn't reach my knife, but some time ago I made a few smaller needles in case of emergencies, and kept them in my wrist-pouch and managed to wedge one between the toes of Torrent's other foot."

"You used a circuit-stinger on Lord Torrent? Are you crazy?"

"'Lord Torrent' wants to kill our daughter and a baby that's not even three hours old." Aiden wobbled to his feet. "I'm surprised he collapsed so fast. The needles are more potent than the knife, but I hadn't tried them out much before now."

Silence blanketed the room once again.

"What now?" Kathleen wanted to know.

Aiden popped his neck and shoulders. "I have a sudden urge to kill some time in the Hollow. Kathleen, I bet you and Ange and the boy would like to visit Brynn for a while."

Kathleen looked at her daughter. "Feel like you can walk a little, Ange?"

"It might be for the best," Ange said, staring blankly at her newborn baby.

"Go on about your business, Aiden," Kathleen said. "I'll help Ange get dressed."

So Aiden left and Ange slowly slid out from between her sheets, and slumped against her mother with exhaustion.

"Funny how you're at your physical peak, but that birth was so rough on you, isn't it?" Kathleen said cheerfully, working to get Ange dressed and washed around the body of Torrent, still slung out on the floor, snoring like a man-eating drunk. "It was hard on me, too, when I had you. Don't cry. We're all together. Everything will be okay."

* * *

Caillou shrugged when Aiden paused in his story. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Torrent tried to kill me as soon as I was born."

"'Kill you?' Aiden grunted. "Too dignified. Chances are good that he actually would've tried to eat you. Wow, your eyes can sure get wide. Really, though, I've heard rumours. That's all they are, though, because even Torrent would have to hide his sick appetite from Asmodeus, who likely thinks that eating a baby is going beyond the beyonds."

"Oh." Caillou scratched at the back of his head. "Well."

"'Oh well' is right. Do you know what happened after that incident with Torrent?"

"I lived, obviously."

"Of course you did, clever boy. But what do you remember about your mother?"

Caillou clearly remembered his final days with his mother, sitting and talking at the table in the centre of their warren. But his childhood memories were cobwebby. One thing did remain constant: "She was faithful to Asmodeus. She supported his cause."

Aiden gave a laugh that sounded like a cough. "No, she certainly did not. She was covering her ass for as long as she could."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't die. I stood and let Asmodeus break my arms and rip my back apart so that you wouldn't. That was my punishment for interfering with Eden's business. But Asmodeus did admire my actions to an extent -- another mistake. He told me that he'd let you live, but Ange would die ... on his own time. He would see to her death, maybe within a few hours or fifty years. Either way, I would be alive to see it, he assured me.

"It's not particularly fun to go through life with the constant reminder that your only child is going to die at any day. I didn't want you around because looking at you was another reminder. That, and you have the same empty eyes as your dog of a father, who started all this."

Caillou picked his head up. "Well, I don't think that Jake was the one who tried to kill me, to be fair. Nytetrayn said he was an okay person."

"Oh, sure, since when does a Mechadrake tell lies," Aiden snorted. "Let me tell you something else. Jake was a greedy pig. He brought his daughter here to be cured of some damnable disease that doctors on the overworld were obviously too stupid to puzzle out. The price wasn't pretty; in return for curing her, Asmodeus wanted both of them to stay in Eden and fight for the annihilation of robots. Jake agreed, and that's all there is to it. There's no excuse for what he did."

"Which was?"

"Running out! What else? A price agreed on is a price that has to be paid, and he didn't honour that. And when he was in Eden, instead of doing what he was asked, he'd sulk. Or start a fight. I don't know what kind of a life he lived, but he wasn't used to not having his own way, and he refused to try and fit in. Asmodeus bent over backwards to try and make him happy." Aiden leaned back and the mattress creaked. "In fact, when Asmodeus saw that Jake was obviously fond of Ange--and my girl was sort of fond of him for some reason I was never meant to understand--he immediately offered her as his wife."

"And?"

"And you're too young for this conversation. All you need to know for now is that he did accept, but things didn't go the way he wanted them to, so he took what he needed and left before the ceremony actually happened. Guess who got the reap the rewards of his abandonment."

"Maybe ... he didn't want things to turn out this way?"

"Well, they did." Aiden stood up. "But Jake is irrelevant at this point. We need to talk about how we're going to keep you alive."

"You're going to help me?"

"Weren't you listening when I said that you were wrong about me not wanting to have anything to do with you? I guess Kathleen is right in saying that you can't help your blood, but I'm not going to risk my neck solely for you. There are other factors at stake, one of those being that I have reason to believe Eden isn't as glorious as it once was. Reploids whatever, robots whatever, all I know is that my only daughter is dead by Asmodeus's hand, and she didn't deserve it."

"Whatever we're going to do, we'd better do it quick. What quarter is it now?"

"Dawn's coming up about now, I figure. You were asleep for a few hours."

"Well, Asmodeus is going to kill me in four days unless Jake's daughter is returned to Eden by Nytetrayn the Mechadrake."

Aiden looked at him for a long minute. "Guess we have our work cut out for us, then."

* * *

Genesis trotted through the dewy grass on all fours, with his nose close to the ground. He stood back up and peered around MHHQ's enormous back lot, which was greying in the pale, cloudy sunrise. The old refugee cabins stood their usual sentry, but they couldn't tell any tales.

_Good. Nobody saw me do that._

The foxhound act had proven useless anyway; the heavy, wet lawn was bare of scents, other than the stale smells of Mechadrakes and the curious humans who'd come knocking that night. Tess, Paul and Iris had seemingly vanished. Genesis put his ears back at the thought of the former Repliforce member. "Did that crazy so-and-so mount her My Little Pony and flitter off? I wouldn't put it beyond her, at this point. And what the hell is that?"

The lot was rapidly becoming lighter, and a large figure became an obvious presence beside one of the cabins several hundred metres away from where Genesis stood. In an eerie awakening of senses, the smell of battle and blood hit him at the same moment, and the fur on his neck flared. He dropped again and began to gallop towards the figure beside the cabin, cold dew spraying up in his wake.

* * *

Strabo the silver Mechadrake was not much good with technology. She tapped desperately at her earpiece.

"Hello? Strabo here. Does anybody copy?"

Silence. Birds roosted on the cabin roof behind her and twittered. On some far off highway, traffic roared quietly and carried easily in the still morning air. Strabo looked back at Maverick Hunter Headquarters, and even it seemed eerily still for a fortress that was supposed to be in an uproar.

The birds kicked up their chorus, caring nothing for the human dying at Strabo's feet. The Mechadrake pressed down hard with both her palms now, but the human's ripped chest wouldn't stop giving blood to the morning.

"Well, hell. This is a fine mess--"

Something heavy cannonballed into the back of Strabo's serpentine neck, and her paws slid across the stricken human's slippery chest. She reared back onto her heels and her wings flared out. She jumped and her wings cracked once, supporting her shakily until she tumbled back down, her knees sinking into the soft earth. The dead weight was still latched on the back of her neck, struggling and...biting? Her arms flew back and she sank her claws into something soft and warm. The thing growled and bit down harder on her neck. Strabo gasped in pain and for a tense second, she remembered that rabies were in season. Not that she had reason for concern, but if this animal smelled the bloody mess in front of her, it could surely compound the human's troubles. He didn't need that.

The Mechadrake rolled over and pried at her neck at the same time. A weight was literally lifted from her shoulders as she finally succeeded in shaking her attacker loose. She scrambled into a battle position immediately, hunching with her head low, ready to spring.

"Stay away from the human!" Strabo and her rival barked at each other simultaneously before lapsing into a second of confused silence.

Strabo's opponent was a fierce fox, presumably a Reploid, though he looked positively feral as he stared her down, panting, lips curled back to reveal white teeth. His eyes were indescribable, and Strabo shrank back a little, not knowing what to make of the situation.

"Give that human over, Maverick!"

Strabo collected herself and drew forward. "You're the one who's dripping foam from your mouth like some sick horse, and you're calling _me_ a Maverick?"

"You've killed that human there--a Hunter, no less, by the looks of his uniform. What else do I need to call you a Maverick? Catch you eating the corpse?"

"You _might_ want to catch me in the process of killing him, though I've heard you Hunters don't bother with anything as trifling as 'proof' when you condemn your own kind." Still crouching, Strabo made one hand ready on her katana sheath. "Makes me wonder how many innocent have died, seeing as how I didn't hurt this human, and never _would_ hurt a human, but you're ready to kill me if I let you."

"Telling lies over a dead body." The fox set his shoulders back. "If there isn't some sort of eternal punishment for that, something involving devils sticking hot pitchforks in your butt, I hope the world burns."

"What 'lies' are you babbling about? This boy's alive! Though he won't be for much longer if he doesn't get medical attention!"

_"Out of my way! I'm a goddamned doctor!"_ The fox roared and flung himself like a living weapon. Strabo felt hot teeth sink into her soft throat, and she gagged. The back of her neck could be chewed on without much trouble, but this was something else entirely. She flung her arm forward, and her katana sliced through the reploid's shoulder armour, and cleaved through a few inches of metal and flesh. _Damn! Needs more sharpening..._

Not only was she not very good with technology, she was not a prime warrior. Not Eden's best by a long shot, which is why she'd been left to patrol the perimeter of Maverick Hunter Headquarters. She hacked blindly at the fox, which hung on to her throat like a bulldog. His black blood and her black blood mingled on her armour, in his fur. Her katana slipped out of her hand, and she tore into the fox with her claws instead, but he didn't seem to feel it. She spread her thin wings, but her tormenter let go of her throat long enough only to fall to the ground, kick off in an instant, and sink his claws and teeth into the leathery membrane. Strabo was jerked violently, one wing pumping uselessly, stirring the morning haze. The fox's teeth grabbed her on the shoulder, and he kicked at her belly like a cat disemboweling a mouse. And like a mouse under a cat's paws, she fell apart as his claws tore into her stomach, ripped it apart, and released her life's blood. Strabo only let out a quiet gargling sound as she sank to the wet ground, curled beside the human.

* * *

_Damn ... my visor got knocked off when I jumped that hooch. Too bright out here..._

Genesis patted around in the wet grass, but his bloody paws didn't come into contact with his eyepiece. The stricken human moaned close to him, and he quickly abandoned his search.

"Hey, hang on now," Genesis appealed to the boy's soul, peeling open the shredded Hunting garb and looking in dismay at the mauled chest and belly beyond. "Holy pissing Lord. What the hell did that lizard do to you?"

The boy answered with a noise that was between a bark and a sob. His clean, light hair stood out brightly in the morning dim, an almost cruel representation of Heaven floating above the Hell that gripped his body below the neck.

"Listen. It's me, Genesis. I'm from the Medical Unit. Do you recognise me?"

The young Hunter opened his eyes. They were terrified, but the boy managed to answer, "Yeh..."

Genesis didn't recognise the wretched boy, but he imagined he'd come across him at some point during his short career ... maybe he'd administered the physical that he required to be a Hunter, or maybe he'd mended a broken arm or even dug out a nagging splinter for him ...

Genesis brushed his fingers over the boy's trembling hand. "Not much I can do for you. She got you in your gut. It's a marvelous age of medicine we live in, but when a Mechadrake tries to ... digest you, science doesn't have much say in your recovery."

The boy's eyes flew open again, and Genesis steeled himself for a long life-and-death bargaining session ... _If it's your time, it's your time..._ But instead, the boy shook his head almost convulsively.

"Wasn' th' drake. She foun' me..."

Genesis felt his mind go blank. "What?"

"Not th' drake." He gasped suddenly and his lungs rattled with a wet, cold sound. He gripped Genesis' hand fit to break it. "Wolf."

"'Wolf?'" Genesis repeated in a mystified voice, but he got nothing more out of the human, who reared back his head on the grass, and, less like a wolf and more like a demented lunatic, screamed and thrashed as a spasm of pain gripped him.

Never hesitating, Genesis landed a heavy blow on the side of the boy's head. The screaming tapered off as his blue eyes clouded over in sedated confusion. One more punch, and they rolled back into his head before they closed. The medic then covered the Hunter's mouth and nose with one large hand, and he crouched silently, listening as the morning bird chorus swelled and the stricken boy's heartbeat slowed and finally stopped.

Genesis sat down hard in the slippery grass, put his hands on his knees and sighed. He looked at the ring of Refugee cabins and he felt his fur stand on his neck a little.

_Been a long time since I've worked in the sun and wind. A long, long time. Been a 'specially long time since I had to do _that...

Genesis closed up the Hunter's uniform best he could; the blood pasted it shut. He straightened the boy's lifeless arms beside him. He walked over to the nearest cabin and almost stepped on his visor on the way. He slipped it back on his eyes and felt a little better when the world darkened, even if flecks of dew and grass now hovered in front of him.

The Mechadrake hadn't killed the boy. She'd said as much, and it'd turned out to be true.

Maybe if he hadn't wasted time killing her...

No. The kid was too far gone. A quick end was all that was left.

Genesis felt something crunch underfoot, and after a quick prayer of thanks for the resilience of Reploid feet, he looked down and saw that he'd crushed the neck of some sort of glass bottle. He scooped up the remains and sniffed, then he grinned a little. Whiskey. Recently drained.

Well, at least he knew why the underage Hunter had come so far out in the wee hours of the morning.

Still. A wolf?

Genesis' stomach suddenly turned a little sick as his memory flicked back to the smoky warmth of MHHQ's garage.

Jackal. Bottle. Cuchulain.

"Cuchulain," Genesis muttered when he thought of Jackal's pet wolf. He dropped the bottle. "God, I warned you, Jackal. She's gone mad at the worst possible time, and now you're up a certain creek without a paddle." The fox grinned again. "And I'm probably going with you. I'm already off Cain's list of Birthday Friends for hiding Celeste's medical records; when he hears that I let you keep that mutt, he's going to make me take the pipe. Hard."

He couldn't let a mad wolf run through Maverick Hunter Headquarters, of course, especially not while the building was still under attack. Wouldn't that be hilarious, X and Zero valiantly battling invaders and then suddenly getting their ankles gnawed by a misplaced wolf?

No, actually, that wasn't funny.

_Well, this is probably the end of my illustrious career._ No more sewing up wounds or setting breaks in the comfort of four walls. It was back to treating coughs and runny noses and delivering babies in under-equipped, freezing tents.

"Oh, it won't be so bad," Genesis mumbled, allowing himself a quick, warm memory of newborns taking their first breaths and yelling like crazy as they were pulled into the frigid world. "I've done it before. Of course, no telling if the old crew is still around. No telling if humans even still wander on the Grasslands. They've probably all smartened up by now."

Genesis grunted and looked back at MHHQ. It was still eerily quiet. He couldn't carry the dead boy back without having him ... well, _spill_ everywhere. He'd have to go back and tell somebody ... tell somebody that an illegal wolf had ripped some poor budding alcoholic's guts out, and was still at large.

Well, no time like the present.

"Tess, if you're in trouble, for the love of God, use your common sense. I can't help you just this minute."

Genesis bounded off in the direction of Headquarters.

* * *

Celeste felt her weapon grow warm and sweaty in her clenched fists and the furthestmost corner of her mind remarked, not for the first time, that something definitely had to be done about MHHQ's crummy security. Despite being considered a "danger" to herself and others, despite being locked up in the psycho ward or schitzo bin or wherever the hell she was, she'd still managed to wrench a solid iron leg from her cot with relatively little difficulty.

To say nothing of the _thing_ that faced her now, long past security, filling the splintered doorjamb.

_Oh Jeez Celeste, put that down. You're overreacting._

Celeste winced as the words arrowed through her brain. "None of this shit! Talk to me!"

_I can't talk, girl. X took my tonsils out with a plasma scalpel._

Celeste's body tensed. "So the Hunters are after you? I'm not surprised. Get out, or you'll start hurting."

_You still consider yourself allied with the Hunters? A fine job they've done, keeping you as a friend. You're about to be shipped off to some asylum because of a natural evolution that they fear. You're going to be locked up for the rest of your life, 'cept when they stir-fry your brain with shock therapy or cut your head open to watch your gears turn. Maybe Zero'll send flowers once in a while._

Shockwaves shivered up Celeste's arms as her heavy weapon contacted with the dark invader's arm. She felt a wicked gladness at the strangled sound he made; she guessed he wasn't lying about the throat wound, and the vocalisation seemed to hurt him as much as the blow.

_Calm down!_ the stranger barked even as he reached for the girl. Celeste leaped back nimbly and her body jolted briefly as her back hit the wall of her small cell. She didn't let it distract her and she dodged her enemy's furious swipe.

"So I'm supposed to calm down while you try and gut me, huh?" She panted.

_Automatic reaction,_ the stranger sent sullenly, rubbing his arm as he stepped into the cell and nearly filled it with his graceful bulk. He was a Mechadrake, but Celeste had known as much before getting a good look at him. So far, they were the only creatures capable of telepathic contact with her, and it hadn't led her to particularly love the beasts. _I told you, I'm here to help--_

The black Mechadrake made an ugly, birdlike sound as Celeste's iron bar cracked him on the side of his jaw, then got him on his shoulder while he was still reeling. A bubbling roar escaped the dragon and his eyes blazed as he wrapped one paw around the former Huntress' neck. _LISTEN TO ME!_

Celeste kicked and struggled and managed one more solid hit before the Mechadrake took her armed hand in his own and squeezed. Pain blazed up Celeste's arm as bones yielded, and she was forced to drop her weapon.

_There, now maybe I can talk sense to you,_ the Mechadrake began as he squeezed, then cursed as the dropped bar landed on his toe. _God damn it! Enough of this. Celeste, you're coming with me._

"You're not taking me anywhere," she hissed, clawing uselessly at the Mechadrake's hold with her unbroken hand. Her stomach lurched up into her thudding heart. She knew her opponent could sense her pain and fear and was using it to make himself stronger. That was the magic of Mindspeak.

_Unless you want the life of your half-brother on your conscience, yes, you are._

"I don't have a half-brother!"

_If you think that your father was the poster boy for strict monogamy, you're sadly mistaken. Now listen. I helped you when you were imprisoned by that psychopath Duskclaw during the first Maverick war; you owe this much to me._

"That was _you?_" Celeste's heart skipped as she recalled the mysterious voice that'd soothed her during her imprisonment and ultimately helped her escape. That voice had been benign, gentle, even ... nothing belonging to someone who mocked her and broke hands.

_And you were once a sweet little girl with pigtails who'd never dream of attacking her guardian with a blunt object. I guess this crazy world has altered us both. Just slightly._

"Nytetrayn!"

The black Mechadrake's arms stiffened and he rolled his eyes back when he heard the sharp salute behind him.

"Ohhhh Jesus," he rasped slowly, and with great difficulty. "It's you, isn't it, Hawkmoon."

"It is. Hello."

"Don't make me talk more than I have to."

"I won't. I am deadly curious, though. How's Eden doing?"

"Same as you left it, traitor."

"'Traitor?'" Hawkmoon made a sound somewhere between a larksong and a laugh. "Pot, kettle."

Celeste's head spun and she choked out a question of her own. "Eden?"

The black Mechadrake--Nytetrayn--swung his head back at her. "Now don't be afraid..."

"Actually, she has all the rights in the world to be afraid," Hawkmoon said mildly. "You always were a bad liar, Nightgown."

"Nytetr--"

"I know your name. Didn't you say you wanted to stop talking?"

"Would appreciate it." Nytetrayn tightened his grip on Celeste and the girl began to have difficulty breathing beyond the restraint, the thudding of her own heart, the churning of her stomach and mind. Nytetrayn shifted a little, and Celeste could see over his broad shoulder and to the doorway, where Hawkmoon stood with her thin hands on her hips.

"Is Asmodeus still mad at me?" the silver Mechadrake sounded like a child who was in trouble with her parents.

"'course he is. He's mad at the world. That's why he does this thing."

"I'm sorry for the way things turned out. But Cain's boy needs me. He always has."

"Oh, get on with yourself," Nytetrayn snorted, then coughed. "If you're going to fight me, just get it over with."

But Hawkmoon moved with little urgency when she stepped into Celeste's cell, moving her head back and forth to pick up scents and judge the closeness of the walls. She reached out one paw, guided it over Nyte's shoulder, and the black Mechadrake shifted instinctively when her ghostly silver fingers brushed his own and rested on Celeste's pulse. Celeste gasped at the icy touch and renewed her struggle, but she was held fast.

"Tell Asmodeus I'm even with him now," was the last thing the Huntress heard before the female Mechadrake's claws stung her neck.


	28. Mothers of the Disappeared

**Chapter 28: Mothers of the Disappeared**

_Well, I've done some dumb things in my life, but trusting that little Repliforce weasel was certainly the dumbest._

Tess Garret flexed her fingers slowly. Soil slid under her fingernails and she shuddered. The grass under her cheek was wet with either dew or tears. It was hard to tell at this point. All she knew for sure was that her head felt like someone was driving a wedge into the back of her skull, and she was going to throw up in about one minute.

Iris had obviously learned something about taking down humans after her fight with Celeste. And why not? She was one half of a two-piece wrecking machine, after all. She'd better damn well have learned something. Tess hoped most of all that Iris had, at some point, learned about taking care of babies. She had Paul now, after all.

_And Paul's last memory will be of me dropping him._ Tess' head felt like it was floating off her shoulders, but the pain didn't lessen. _I'm in for a lifetime of bad Mother's Day presents, if I ever see him again._

It was a half-ridiculous thought, and Tess hardly knew where it came from, but bizarrely, she couldn't think of much else. She didn't even have an idea of what direction Iris had run off to. An earwig squirmed through the damp earth half an inch away from her nose, and she couldn't muster the spirit to be repulsed.

"Over there!"

Tess watched the earwig disappear into the taller grass like a panther slipping into the jungle. She thought dully about how little the two creatures varied from one another. She closed her eyes. Heavy footsteps jarred her brain and very suddenly, she was on her feet, sagging against a strong arm.

"She's got a nasty wound on the back of her head. Should we take her with us?"

The voice behind Tess' head felt unusually hot, almost scalding. She groaned. Her fighting instincts trickled into her limbs like guests late to a party. She felt at the arm holding her and stiffened when she felt not flesh or armour, but something cold and bumpy. _Scales!_

Her rescuer sensed her agitation. "Don't fret ma'am, we won't hurt you."

"It's too late!" Tess rasped, kicking her heel uselessly against the Mechadrake's shin. "It's your fault! We were running from you, and she took him!"

"...Who took who?"

"Whom," corrected a separate unseen voice.

"Piss off. Answer me, ma'am. What happened? Maybe we can help you."

Tess gripped feebly at the arm encircling her. "Iris took my boy ... lemme go, I have to find him."

"Iris?"

"Use't be with Repliforce!" Tess said irritably. "Everyun' knows that."

"A reploid stole your kid, you're saying? Start from the beginning. Think clearly."

The command was almost more than Tess could bear. She dropped her head until her chin touched her chest and took a deep breath to cool the sob that was aching to escape from her throat. "I was taking a walk with Paul ... I saw some strange humans an' Mechadrakes gathered on the lawn by the west wing of Headquarters. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Er, no, can't say so. Haven't seen you before. A Reploid took your son?"

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," murmured the second voice.

"When I saw what was in front of me, I tried to go back into the Headquarters. Iris stopped me before I got to the entrance. She said the building was in security lockdown, but she knew another way in." Tess groaned again, working hard to keep the contents of her stomach down. What was her problem? Why didn't she take a good look at the young Reploid's eyes? Surely she would have read her intentions ... Iris was not good at masking her emotions. Tess hadn't even noticed that Iris' voice definitely sounded even flightier than usual ... she just chalked it up to nervousness. She'd been pretty uneasy, herself. Strangers emerging from nowhere and throwing their coils around Maverick Hunter Headquarters didn't happen often. And _human_ assailants, besides? The whole experience had been disorienting, even for a veteran like Tess.

And Iris ... well, she played her cards well.

_Come on, Mrs Garret. I know another way in. I'll keep you and Paul safe."_

Grabbing her hand and pulling her along. Tripping her. In an instant, panic that Paul might be hurt. Then, before Tess could recover herself and pull up to her feet -- kablammo.

Had it even occurred to Tess to ask Iris why she was out of the Medical Unit in the first place, when Genesis gave her strict orders never to leave without his permission? No, of course not. Something about that damn robot felled a cloud of stupidity around all who occupied her space. Tess grit her teeth and pounded the Mechadrake's arm with newfound strength.

"Ouch! Well if you wanted me to put you down, you didn't have to bloody well hit me!" The Mechadrake set her on the lawn, and she swayed as she got a good look at her helpers for the first time. There were only two of them, a red Mechadrake and a human woman who looked about her age. At the sight of her, Tess leaped back like a cat startled by a strange dog.

The woman smiled thinly. "Ironic that you're seemingly scared of me and not my companion here."

Tess recovered part of herself and wrapped her arms around her body, shivering in the early morning cool. "It's just confusing to see one of my own kind attacking the institute that's sworn to protect them. What in God's name is wrong with you freaks?"

The strange girl was wearing an earth-coloured jacket over her grey jumpsuit. On the left shoulder, there was an insignia, two snakes forming a DNA helix. Below that, there was some odd mark, possibly indicating rank. The girl removed her jacket and swept it over Tess' shoulders. "You need to relax. I'd gladly explain our intentions to you, but I don't think you'd appreciate them in your disoriented state ... even if it _is_ a Reploid who has done you wrong."

"'ware movement," grunted the Mechadrake suddenly, indicating Maverick Hunter Headquarters with his snout. Tess glanced over and saw the invaders spilling briskly from the gutted building like blood from a wound.

"Was the mission successful?" the woman murmured.

"Don't know. I think my comm is down again, because I didn't hear anyone say they'd retrieved McTreggor or Loy. Either way, we got the Hunters' attention and the sun's coming up, so we'd better run."

Tess looked up sharply. "Celeste?"

The woman didn't seem to hear her. "Shoddy repair jobs on the tech lately. I hear Asmodeus sent away Nytetrayn. He was in charge of that sort of matter."

"Well, that's his business," the Mechadrake grunted. "See, looks like the Mechanical Hounds are retreating pretty quickly, so we'd best do the same." He eased his wings open.

"Here, wait!" Tess angrily grabbed the woman by the wrist. "You can't leave! Celeste--Iris--"

When she became aware again, she was staring at the grey morning sky, which was mostly taken up by the snarling red face of the Mechadrake, who pressed down hard on her shoulder with his foot. "It's not my girl's fault if you decided to fraternize with abominations, woman. Kindly keep your hands to yourself or I'll make sure you do."

"Keer, back off," the strange girl said in a weary voice. "She didn't hurt me, and she's not in a right state of mind. What would a mech like yourself understand about these matters?"

The dragon emitted a sound like a small thunderstorm.

"Yes, yes, I referred to your mechanics," she said in a bored voice. "Get over it." She crouched down next to Tess. "If you come with us, we can help you find your baby."

Tess' energy bled away as she looked from the kindly face of the woman to the twisted mug of the Mechadrake that guarded her. She shook her head. "Nuh," was all she could say.

"Then we'll leave you now." The woman helped Tess sit up and brushed her off. She glanced about at the tide of feeling invaders that passed them closely. "They're going to wonder why I'm talking to you if I'm not taking you prisoner. I'll take my jacket back now, if you don't mind."

She got Tess on her feet completely and steadied her for a moment. "Will you be okay?"

"...No."

The girl patted her cheek lightly and turned her in the direction of MHHQ. Tess felt the hands on her shoulders clench a little bit when Hunters poured out in close pursuit of the human invaders, who did not turn to fight, but only quickened their pace. A sour metallic wind brushed through Tess' hair as one after another, Mechadrakes bounded through the wet grass, snapped their wings and took to the sky.

"Go on, you'll find help," the grey girl whispered to Tess. "I have to go. Good luck." Then she was gone, and Tess jerked backwards a little bit as the coat vanished from her shoulders.

Tess drank in the chaos for a second before staggering towards MHHQ. Her vision faded in and out, and at one point a green-armoured Reploid from the 17th ran directly towards her, then reared like a spooked horse when she didn't get out of his way.

"Paul," Tess muttered, shivering.

"Er, no, my name's Aero," the green Reploid said in a quiet voice that nevertheless carried over the thunderous river of Hunters pouring around them. "Are you okay?"

Tess crouched at his feet and began to cry. Aero cleared his throat nervously, put a hand on her shoulder, removed it, then put it on her again. Then he gave up and called for help.

* * *

Monroe Cain pressed his finger-tips against the cool glass of his office picture-window. Then he turned around slowly and put his hand lightly on the coral paper-weight resting on his desk. Seven the panther eyed him nervously, but Genesis kept his face straight. 

Monroe coughed. "A Hunter, you say? Chewed up?"

"Yes, sir," Genesis said gruffly. "I tried to help him, but he was too far gone."

"And you think that--"

"I think that a wolf did it."

"A wolf that--"

"A wolf that Jackal kept in the garage."

"Because--"

"Because I helped heal her."

Monroe coughed again and grinned fiercely. "Oh, wow, where do I file this fantastic bit of information. Maybe under 'P' for 'Psychotic wolf.' It'll nestle in nicely after 'N' for 'Nonsensical Invaders', and after that, 'R' for 'Revived Mavericks Ripping Up the City.'" Monroe spun suddenly and hurled the paperweight at his window. It cracked with a thick thudding sound, but it didn't shatter. Monroe swore in a half-scream and took a flying kick at the injured glass, only succeeding in bouncing back against his desk and spilling paperwork everywhere.

A strange look was fixed on Seven's face, but Genesis calmly picked Monroe up and eased the head of HQ back into his seat. Monroe let himself settle in before he whapped the fox's arms away. "Genesis, if things weren't such a mess right now, I'd find a way to assassinate you with my shoe. But then I wouldn't be able to ask you, how did you get to me so quickly? Didn't any of the ... visitors stop you?"

"I saw a number of them, yes. But they didn't pay attention to me. They all seemed to receive some sort of message because a lot of them stopped any fights they were engaged in and just turned tail and ran."

"You didn't engage any of them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not retarded."

"Fair enough, though you certainly owe it to the Hunters to get your crap together. First there was the incident with hiding McTreggor's health record, and now this wild wolf business." Monroe's temper began to boil again. "What on God's earth prompted you to think that a wolf made a cool pet?"

"In all fairness sir, I only healed her. Jackal kept her."

Monroe threw his hands up in the air. "Whatever! What I'm trying to say is, the invaders would've been pretty preoccupied with a retreat, maybe enough that it would've been easy to take one as a prisoner and learn just what the hell happened in the halls of this godforsaken establishment. Those claws on your fingers aren't for picking your nose, Genesis."

"I'm well aware."

"And then there's the reports of Maverick ... hybrids attacking the city. Something about Toxic Seahorse and Storm Eagle fused together, among others. Either the entire city is on some seriously awesome drugs, or these incidents are all related. With the exception, perhaps, of your wolf, who simply went crazy in the party atmosphere."

Genesis adjusted his shades. "Sure, but maybe it's best to deal with one thing at a time."

"Oh, that's noble," Monroe said coldly. He tapped his fingers on his desk, coiling for another verbal attack, but Genesis' communicator beeped, and he eased back into his chair with begrudging curiosity.

"Uh huh," Genesis answered an unvoiced question. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"If you set foot in the Medical Unit again, you'll have to step over my dead body," Monroe automatically growled when the fox cut communications.

"Well, do you want your prisoner in any condition to answer questions, or do you want him dead?"

Monroe's face wiped itself of expression. "What?"

"A sole prisoner was captured and brought back by X and Zero. Some boy of rank, no less." Genesis wrinkled his nose sadly. "You're also going to want to talk to Tess about a few things. And get Lifesaver to meet us down in the Medical Unit. X needs him."

"Why--"

"Downstairs."

* * *

Genesis was never sure what sound hit him first when he walked into the Medical Unit. There was Tess' thin wail, X's low moan and the rattle of his armour as he shook violently, clinging to an unconscious boy like a teddy bear. Zero fought angrily with Josh Garret, who sat on one of the beds and pillowed his wife's pale head with his lap, and the general din of Hunters made desperate by injury filled the room. 

Genesis put his fingers in his mouth and whistled piercingly. The noise in the ward cooled slightly, and the fox began to feel more like himself as he took charge.

"Monroe, talk to Tess. X, Lifesaver is coming to take care of that virus you've been infected with--oh, don't start fretting like a little girl, it's not the Maverick virus. You'll just feel out of sorts for a while, I think. Pip ... Pip, get over here. No, _here,_ you damnable prat. Take care of the wound on the back of Tess' head, but before that, get the Ninesnakes Unit to see to the injured Hunters. Don't get in Monroe's way, all right? Josh, settle down, your wife needs you right now. And Zero, do you think you could stop your pissing contest long enough to bring X's prisoner to Room 11?"

If the noise didn't settle down, it at least sounded like it had purpose. That was better. If there was one thing Genesis couldn't stand, it was unproductive discord.

Zero sobered and managed pry the strange boy from X. It was curious work, as X was holding onto the prisoner seemingly with his life, and his eyes looked far away. Genesis stared hard at the blue Hunter. "The humans who invaded us ... they were carrying those same knives as Blake had, weren't they?"

Zero nodded.

"Looks like X got a back full of one, and it's affecting him worse than it did to Cass. I hope Lifesaver can straighten him out."

"His issues amount to more than a hole in his back," Zero said dryly, indicating his prisoner with a downward jerk of his head.

"You can tell me all about it in a second." Genesis shut the door to Room 11 behind Zero and himself. The red Hunter propped the unconscious human on the cot in front of him, and the boy immediately fell over like a sack of potatoes.

"Tsk. Zero," Genesis sighed with a shake of his head. The fox tilted Kincaid's swollen chin up towards the light and whistled. "Fine job on his face. This your work?"

"No, X's."

"For serious?"

Zero nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'd like to take the credit for giving this little punk the walloping he's needed since he cut his first tooth. We found him in the garage, and you know what he called me and X and the Reploid race in general? 'Lost lambs', or something trite like that."

"What was his deal? Why did all those humans and Mechadrakes attack us?"

"It has to do with an organisation called the Inheritors of Eden."

"Maniacs du Jour, eh?" Genesis sneered, though his gears lurched when he recalled his talks with Celeste regarding her oddball dreams. Zero's leaden expression didn't buoy his sinking feeling.

"More than that, I think. A bunch of pale humans don't come to town waving pointy sticks because they've nothing better to do."

"You haven't even heard the really fantastic news about hybrid Mavericks attacking the city last night at about the same time the kids visited."

"Not surprising." Zero lowered his voice. "Couple of days ago, some misbegotten cross between Sting Chameleon and Wire Sponge killed two teenagers. We had a little ... talk, and I found out that Vile's back. We dispatched some scouts and fighters in case of any more trouble, and I was going to speak with Monroe this morning and discuss if it was worth it to hunt down and kill Vile--and trust me, it is--but now we have a bigger problem on our hands. And while we're on the topic of good news, Iris has run off with Tess' baby, Paul."

"My turn! I found a dying Hunter who said a wolf attacked him. What a toboggan ride." A sterile, stinging smell flooded the small room as Genesis swabbed at Kincaid's face. The boy's nose was caked with blood, dirt and mucus, and he breathed in snoring gasps. He was missing a couple of teeth, and a number of others were significantly loose. "I can't believe X did this."

"Neither can he. We don't have much training in subduing humans, to be honest ... and this kid may be lousy with diction, but he fought like a tiger. We might have strength as Reploids, but these Eden people have speed, those damnable knives, and pet Mechadrakes to blindside you. X did the best he could, but it's never enough for him."

"Isn't that always the way with him." Genesis threw his swab at the wastebasket and missed. "This's been some night. Mavericks, kidnappers, a bunch of rabid humans and an equally rabid wolf. You'd better talk to Monroe and see what's next. I'll keep an eye on our friend and tell you if he wakes up, though I don't think it'll be for a while."

* * *

It had only been an hour or two prior that Zero had hunted Mechadrakes in the halls of MHHQ, and he couldn't remember feeling much emotion beyond getting business done. Things always looked bleaker in the daylight, however, with certain corridors being inaccessible due to damage and every staff member running in two directions at once trying to sort out the attacks, and figuring out where to start rebuilding. 

Zero reached Monroe Cain's office by ignoring every plea for answers and advice. The corridor and stairwell leading up to the leader was mobbed, but he pushed his way through mechanically until he reached Hawkmoon, who was in charge of crowd control. The silver Mechadrake reveled in her role, and was well equipped for it with her tail, wings and beaky snout.

"Mr Cain's not seeing anyone today, you idjit! He's got enough problems without your hangdog mug in front of him. Oi, you there! I may be blind, but I can smell you trying to sneak past me ... and I caught the spoor of the female clerk you evidently 'comforted' last night during the attacks. I bet that's a topic your wife would be interested in next time I meet her for tea. Oh, you don't think so? Then take off, quickly. Hello, Zero."

Zero was so surprised to hear such a civil greeting chase Hawkmoon's threats and insults that he couldn't respond.

"Yes, you need to talk to Monroe, right? Step over my tail, and do it quickly because I'm about to brain some of these vultures."

Zero did as he was told, and bounded up the stairs. The noise melted behind him, and the quiet was eerie. Seven was crouched in front of the great doors of Cain's office, leaning on his axe. He glared at Zero.

"Hello, Seven."

"'Lo."

"Haven't seen you in a while. I thought you were dead."

"Eat me."

"I need to talk to Monroe."

"It's a free country." The panther stood up and stepped aside, and Zero felt a black wind chill him when he entered Monroe's office.

Monroe's huge chair was empty, but his office wasn't. Zero was surprised to see X standing in front of the young leader's desk. The hole between the blue Reploid's shoulders was patched up, but he still shivered and looked miserable in general.

Zero gripped his arm. "You look like you're about to pass out. You shouldn't be here."

X was trembling so hard, it was easy to miss him shaking his head in the negative. "I'll be f-fine. I'm just a bit under the weather."

"More like underground and next door to hell. Go get some rest."

"I won't. There're a bunch of people a lot worse off than I am, and they need me."

Monroe burst into the office, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Zero took notice. "Cain, sir, I didn't think you smoked."

"Well, today's a bloody fantastic day to start," Monroe barked, causing his cigarette to fly out of his mouth and tumble down his shirt. He caught it quickly, stuck it back into place and struggled with an ornery pack of matches. "Do you have any idea what we're up against?"

"The news isn't good, way I hear it."

"That's an understatement. I can think of -- X, for God's sake, go back to your room."

The azure Reploid stood motionless, save for the tremours that rocked his body.

Monroe shook his head. He discarded another burnt match, then another, then he ripped the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it and the pack of matches over his shoulder. "Let me lay out the scenario for you. First and most obvious were the visitors. Largely human, from what we can tell, though there were some Mechadrakes in tow."

"What did they want?"

"To rattle us up, I think." Monroe flipped through a thick binder of papers, evidently the type who was a little calmer with hardcopy in his hands. "Or so I thought at first. Apparently, everyone fled as if on a signal."

"What was the signal?"

"It's only speculation for now, but--" Monroe paused and shuffled a few more papers before his eyes widened slightly. "Well ... it's just speculation for now, so I'll get to it after our affairs are settled a little. There's a lot more to go over."

_Monroe knows something about all this._ Zero scratched at one wrist. He knew he'd never get a straight answer about anything until the day he could crack open heads and suck out thoughts. He'd have to settle. "What else happened?"

Monroe shuffled his binder under his arm and counted down on his fingers. "In the confusion of the attack, Iris grabbed Tessa Garret's baby, Paul and fled towards the city. An immediate chase seems appropriate, but the city suffered another attack of those hybrid Mavericks, and there were five casualties, including the Hunters who were dispatched to quell the uprising and the patrols who were combing the city for any more evidence of Vile or the hybrids. The Mavericks fled at sunup."

Simultaneously, X mumbled "Poor Tess," and Zero snorted.

"Some sort of wild animal -- Genesis suggested maybe the pet wolf that he stupidly let Jackal keep in the Garage -- attacked and killed a human Hunter by the former Refugee Camps. We couldn't find the animal, but tests run on the, er, corpse made it clear that no disease was involved. I think maybe it was an isolated incident, but Genesis seems disturbed about it in general."

"Should we do something about that?"

"I don't know. I'm making it a point to ignore Genesis 'til his brains grow back."

Zero narrowed his eyes. "Let's go back to square one. Why did those humans attack us?"

"Well, it might have something to do with the fact that McTreggor is gone."

"Celeste?"

"No, her father's bloated corpse rose from its soupy grave so it could take a walk. Who else?"

"Maybe the invaders took her for some reason?" X ventured.

"Possible," Monroe agreed. "An unconfirmed source mentioned that they saw a black Mechadrake run out of Headquarters with Celeste slung over its shoulder, and at that moment, the rest of the fighters fled as well. But it's equally as possible that she ran away in the confusion of the attack."

"Run away? From what?"

Monroe pitched X a frustrated look. "Isn't it obvious? She was locked up. Hell, to be fair, if I were going to be sent to the same place her mother wants her to go, I'd run, too."

Zero held up his hands. "Wait. I feel like I've missed something here."

Monroe sighed. "I found out that Genesis had been hiding McTreggor's medical records. There was a lot there, so I'll just tell you that she's got a lot of physical and emotional issues that are festering inside her, and she shouldn't be within ten miles of her rank."

"...You're talking about Celeste?"

"Yes, I promise you I'm talking about Celeste. She attacked Iris viciously, but I might've let that slide because Iris attacked her first. She--"

"What in God's name were they fighting about?"

"Girly matters that are of no concern to you," Monroe said wryly, and Zero fought a tremendous urge to swing his heavy boot up and into an unmentionable part of the young man's anatomy, where he certainly would feel it. "At any rate, she needed a doctor--a head-doctor, mind you--and she refused, so I had no choice but to let her go. Her mother was set to pick her up this morning."

Zero was silent.

"You never heard any of this?"

"Been busy," the Hunter mumbled.

"Well, I guess I can't argue that," Monroe grunted. He ran a hand through his hair. "I think we'll have to split up our forces to deal with things as best as we can. Of course, our top priority is the city. X, I don't want you going too far away in case something happens to you in your state. You'll assemble twenty of your best and see what's going on in the city ... such as if there's any truth to the claim that Vile is behind the Maverick attacks. Report back to HQ at 1400 hours and neutralise any threats. It goes without saying that you'll seize and deliver Iris immediately, if you should locate her. Zero, you'll be taking the Black Unicorns and accompanying me as we try and sort out what's going on with those human attackers. Intelligence notes that they fled towards the southwest."

"You're coming with me, sir?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"But ... it might be dangerous."

"Why do you think I'm taking you and the Black Unicorns? For tea? Now listen. We have one prisoner in our possession, but he's not in any condition to talk just yet. We need to take care of matters while the trail is fresh."

"Feels like a trap."

"We won't be plunging head-long into any rabbit holes. I'm not that stupid. I just want to take a look around, and there's not many opportunities for an ambush on the open plains."

Zero stared hard.

"All right, well, there was that attack on Josh's unit a month back," Monroe relented. "But we'll be prepared this time--and by prepared, I mean 'Not hung over,' yes? No more questions. You're both dismissed. Get your asses in gear."

* * *

_Sweet mother of God,_ Jody Loy declared inwardly as he peered cautiously over the top of his toilet stall. _How pathetic._

Maverick Hunter Headquarters' lobby-level washroom, reserved for visitors, was eerily empty. It had remained so for the duration of the attack, which Jody had heard quite clearly once he'd dived into his hiding spot.

He had a good idea about what the Inheritors meant by invading MHHQ, but they hadn't found him. In fact, no one had entered the room at all. They obviously still thought enough of Jody that they'd try rooting him out from the barracks, or even the training gyms; they never would've believed for a second that he'd cower like a yellow dog in the stall of a washroom. The Ladies' washroom, no less.

When he was sure the coast was clear, Jody leaped off the toilet and stepped out of the stall. He didn't even spare a glance and thought to the ways in which the architecture of the room varied from the same facilities that were used by his own gender, a mild wonder that afflicted everyone who crossed the border into new territory. He'd been in a woman's washroom once before, though he'd been much younger, and his intentions, ironically, far more honourable.

He remembered it pretty clearly, especially the way the cold enamel of the floor bit through the cloth of Eden's issue jumpsuit as he kneeled, and the manner in which Celeste's limp weight against his arms caused him to struggle for balance. _"Mr McTreggor, sir! She's here, she's in here! Come quick!"_

Jake bounded into the washroom, saw his daughter's blood on the immaculate white floor. _"Jesus and Mary! Don't touch her, you miserable little disease. What happened? What happened?"_ Jody's head thudded hard against the wall when Jake pushed him away, and he saw stars. _"Celeste! For God's sake, open your eyes, love!"_

_"It wasn't me!"_ Jody cried out. _"I found her! Mister Arlen had us practise protocol 3, and Celeste couldn't keep up. Mister Arlen tried to help her, and she still couldn't do it, so he hit her and she started to bleed. She managed to run away, and I followed her and found her asleep in here--"_

Instead of listening, Jake babbled to some invisible entity. _"I don't care, I don't care what kind of deal I made with Asmodeus. I care for you, Ange, but I can't stay. I won't let Celeste grow up in this bog. Arlen ... I'm going to rip that hypocritical bastard, and then we're leaving."_

How about that, Jody thought to himself with bitter amusement as his mind swam back to his powder-scented surroundings. He'd run after his friend and playmate that day, who staggered into one of Eden's washrooms like a wounded deer. He'd stood up to Arlen--and gotten a hell of a thrashing from the sadistic robot for doing so--and he'd survived the wrath of Celeste's dog-blooded father. All when he was naught five years old. Now, a seasoned warrior of an elite troop both inside and outside of the Maverick Hunters, he'd run away from his enemies. There was no doubt about it; the Outside had made him soft.

Jody exited the room stealthily and stepped into the wrecked lobby. He gave a low whistle at the sight of the overturned couches and plants, the scorched marble and the Hunters flitting from one damaged area to another. His rational side opened up one eye. _I didn't protect Celeste, but would I have been able to?_

No, he would've died like some noble but idiotic warrior, or he would've been captured alongside Celeste to suffer some horrid fate at the hands of Asmodeus. Celeste _had_ been captured, of that he was sure; Eden had come to finish off the job Jody hadn't even started.

The young Mechanical Hound spit on the scuffed floor. He hadn't captured Celeste specifically because he cared too much about her to force her into being his wife, and yet he felt cheated. At the same time, he felt validated. He _hadn't_ been captured, and he knew he was far more use to Celeste alive and free. He would descend into Asmodeus' damn ditch, and he would rescue her. He would protect her, as he used to when they were children. It was an easy thought, but it turned his bowels to ice, nonetheless.

He took a deep breath and adjusted his fingerless gloves to get a grip on himself. It wasn't like he'd be going alone, after all...

* * *

The Garage whirred with activity, the sounds of Ride Chasers starting up, Reploids shouting orders, ropes tightening bundles. Jackal, however, was stone-faced and silent as he helped Zero make ready his Adion-class Chaser. 

"Sorry to hear 'bout Bottle," Zero said gruffly.

"We all lose friends," Jackal said flatly. "Happens in wars." The bundle on Zero's vehicle was tightened with a final creak of ropes, and the Captain of the Garage moved on to help Monroe get settled in. Zero placed one hand on the bundle to test its binding, and he watched Jackal for a second before he turned around and found himself in the sudden presence of an unwanted visitor.

"We all lose friends, all right. I think we both know something about that."

Zero glared at Jody. "What're you doing here?"

"You're on the trail of those warriors, right? I want to come with you."

"That's nice, but you're a part of the 17th Unit, not the 0 Unit. In fact, you may very well be on the roster to help X with his investigation of the city, so get lost."

Jody anchored himself by adding his hand to Zero's bundle of supplies. "I'm not. And I know what you're up against."

"Congratulations. Now move."

"I mean to say, I know _more_ than any half-assed intelligence. You're up against the Inheritors of Eden, and if you want any hope of doing anything against them, you're going to need one of their kind."

"'One of their--'" Zero clicked his jaw shut in mid-sentence.

The boy pierced the silent Hunter with his grey stare. "You can apprehend me, you can yell for security, you can do whatever you want, but you should know that if you do anything besides listen to what I have to say, it'll be all over for the lot of you. Especially Celeste."

Zero breathed sharply and watched the activity that buzzed far away from Jody's locked bubble of conversation. "So," he said at last, "They do have Celeste."

"Will you take me with?"

"I'm undecided," the Hunter said flatly. "I might just run you through. You're obviously a spy, and I don't know why you'd care about helping us ... or why you're crazy enough to admit to what you are."

"I don't care about the Hunters, but I do care about Celeste, and I know my way around Eden."

"Grown fond of her, have we?" Zero snickered unkindly. "I don't care if you're a walking map. I'm not about to risk harbouring a trecherous stowaway just so you can run Celeste down."

"She was promised to me--"

As automatically as a puppet on a string, Zero shoved Jody and the boy smacked hard into the side of the Adion. His palms slid down the blood-red paint and he looked up at the Reploid, seemingly confused for a minute. Then the disorientation evaporated and a knowing smile tugged at his mouth. Zero picked Jody up roughly by his collar and pulled his face close to his own.

"You goddamned humans," the Hunter hissed. "You all point to us Reploids as the cause of the world's problems, and yet you're violent, you bite the hand that feeds you, and you put yourselves on a pedestal above Nature and instinct, but you're worse than jackrabbits."

Jody's smile showed teeth. "I bet Cain would love to hear that coming out of the mouth of one of humanity's supposed protectors."

"I bet he'd _really_ love to hear about the turncoat in his midst." Zero threw Jody to the ground in disgust. The traitor sprang up instantly, his body tense, but he didn't make a move to fight.

The crisis passed, and Zero turned back to his cycle. "Celeste is not your property."

"So, she's yours, then?"

"Are you stupid?"

"No, just observational. You never liked me to be around Celeste. Tension from day one."

"That's because I never trusted you, and it looks like I was right. But I will admit that I try and watch over her for my own reasons." Zero grunted as a memory of starlight flickered through his head and it was chased away by the vision of Celeste lying on the hard ground, dead and broken by his hand. "And unlike you, I do what it takes to protect those I care about, even if it means staying away."

"What about Iris? Oughta stay with your own kind."

"That was a brief fling with a bad end, not that it's any of your business. It didn't end well, and if Iris' recent behaviour is any indication, Act Two isn't going so hot either."

"So you're going to die alone," Jody grinned. "Fantastic. But this doesn't change the fact that Celeste still needs your help, and you need _my_ help."

"...Monroe doesn't plan to have us enter Eden yet, you know. What good will you be?"

"I might surprise you," Jody said mildly. "If worst comes to worst, I think Celeste will definitely be safe for a time. If she follows orders. Which ... she probably won't."

Zero cursed and pounded his fist into the side of his Adion, then cursed again when he saw the chipped dent he left behind. The storm cooled as he shook his hand and chased his thoughts to the first Maverick War. Starlight, a bloody battle, truth and then resurrection. He was a time bomb, but Jody was a predator. It was hard to decide which was more dangerous, but that could be decided after the scouting was done, the war plans were drawn, the threat of Eden was squashed, and Celeste was retrieved. If she managed to live that long.

He turned to Jody and indicated the bundle on his bike with a thump.

"Well then ... Are you claustrophobic?"


	29. Run Like Hell

** Chapter 29: Run Like Hell**

Zero closed his eyes, leaned back against his Ride Chaser, and lifted his face to the sky. The summer sun beat down on his armour and he could feel the stored heat waft up past his face. His internal systems cooled his insides nicely and kept him from overheating, but on the outside, he was a hotplate. Of course, he saw no reason to tell this to Jody, who reached out a tentative hand to get the Hunter's attention from his hiding place and immediately jerked it back with a muffled curse. 

"Yeah, the armour tends to get hot, friend," Zero said quietly, keeping a keen eye on Monroe Cain as the young man took a swig of water several paces away from him.

"So I noticed."

"We on the right track? Seems to be some sort of structures on the horizon due south."

"We're doing okay," his bundle assured him. "There's a defunct mining settlement there, but Eden uses it as one of their gateways. Say, think you could cover me while I dash out and take a quick leak?"

"Nope."

"C'mon!"

"Cain's prowling nearby. You wanna get caught?"

Zero heard Jody's uncomfortable sigh. He thought about how the boy was also probably roasting to death in his hiding spot. And he smiled.

"Zero." Monroe wiped his mouth and approached the Hunter. He turned his eyes up to the large bundle on the back of Zero's Ride Chaser. "Why'd you take so many supplies with us?"

"Doesn't hurt to be prepared, sir."

"Maybe not, but I'm the only human who came on this expedition. We don't need so much stuff weighing us down."

"What can I say? Humans are high-maintenance creatures."

"I guess I can't argue that," Monroe sighed. The beginnings of a magnificent sunburn was streaked across his face and he rubbed at it painfully. "You didn't think to pack any sunblock, did you."

"Sorry, I forgot that much," Zero apologised. "If you're worried about having too much junk to tote around, did you want me to dump some of this stuff on the plains?"

"Of course not." Monroe gave Zero's Chaser a sideways glance, as if he heard the same small, angry noise that Zero did. "That'd be a waste. But let's move on to more important things. The group that attacked Headquarters didn't leave too many obvious traces. The Mechadrakes flew away, of course, and the human soldiers seemed lightweight for the most part, able to move quickly without damaging too much underbrush." Monroe glanced around the desolate knee-high sea of amber grass nodding in the hot wind. "Not that there's much to damage on the Grasslands, I guess. But the grass is brittle, and the soldiers left a broken trail due south."

"Oh, they want us to find them," Zero said cheerfully, unscrewing the cap off another canteen of warm water and handing it to Monroe. "That much is obvious."

Monroe accepted the water. "Exactly why we're going to be careful with every step we take."

"Well, we'd better start being more careful. Do you see that small group of houses? There, on the horizon?"

Monroe dropped the empty canteen and cupped his hands around his eyes, peering against the sun's glare. "Nope, too bright out here."

Zero felt a little smug. "I can. McTreggor and some of the Night Vipers scouted this area last spring, and mentioned finding an abandoned mining settlement. That's where the trail seems to lead."

"Oh. Think that's where the invaders live?"

"I dunno. They seemed to have nice clothes for a bunch of hobos shacked up in a run-down village."

Monroe snorted.

"I'm not trying to be a smartass, I'm just warning you that things aren't what they seem."

"Yes, I heard you the first fifty times." Monroe turned his back and bent over to pick up the empty canteen. "Let's get moving."

"Nice, trying to dump me here," Jody hissed a minute later. "Soon as this is over, I'm going to hit you with a rock."

"Quiet, he'll hear you," Zero said absently as he watched Monroe mount his Ride Chaser well out of earshot.

* * *

"Is this really her?" 

"Mama says so, yeah."

Celeste stared dully at the two little girls hovering over her like flies she didn't have the strength to brush away. She'd climbed slowly out of unconsciousness a while ago, but her poisoned muscles still felt like dough. If it weren't for the mask feeding her air, she would've found it too much trouble to breathe.

"She doesn't look like much," said one little girl doubtfully.

"Go AWAY," Celeste barked hoarsely around her oxygen mask, startling both herself and the girls who scattered at last.

"Well, at least you're talking now," said a colourless voice, and a large hand removed the mask from her face. "I have to say, you're about as charming as your father was when he was incapacitated. Relax, breathe," the voice said when Celeste started to gasp for air. "You're not as bad off as you think."

Celeste automatically decided this was good advice, and her breathing regulated as her eyes focused. The voice belonged to a man with sand-coloured hair. He didn't smile, but he seemed pleased. "Feeling okay? Sorry about those girls, they snuck in when my back was turned. I guess news of your arrival has spread."

"What ... where...?"

"You're in Eden, of course. Is there any other place in the world where you would actually be welcomed? I'm Dr Ison. I'd be surprised if you remembered me."

Celeste blinked stupidly. Her brain was only just beginning to lose its coating of sleepy fuzz, but she pulled away a little when the man--Doctor Ison--reached over and rubbed at the side of her neck with his long fingers. She winced at the painful touch.

"Still hurts, huh? Silver Mechadrakes don't use their poison touch too often, but I hear it's worse than getting stung by a jellyfish."

"It's ... not that bad," Celeste said slowly as her world became clearer and she remembered the time she'd gone to the beach as a girl and brushed against one of the spectre-like creatures. What was she doing here? She curled her fingers against the bedsheets as her numbness wore off, but one of her hands remained frozen. It was in a splint.

The doctor watched her. "You weren't an easy one to net, or so Nytetrayn says. He had to go through some extremes to get you here."

Celeste tried to get angry. "What gave him the right?"

"Because it was for your own good," Dr Ison chuckled. "Not very good at grasping the obvious, are you? Don't worry about your hand, it's only a bad sprain. Though in retrospect, a broken hand would've been easier to mend. Sprains are notorious haunters."

The doctor had nothing more to say for himself, and Celeste had nothing more to say _to_ him. She lay still and felt the strength gather back to her body, and she tried to collect her scattered thoughts at the same time. She had dreamed vividly about Eden for the past few months, and often in those dreams, she had convinced herself that she had actually returned. As real as everything felt here, with the rough sheets beneath her, the doctor shuffling at some work nearby and the alien smell of medicine thick in the air, Celeste still couldn't decide if she was deceiving herself again.

One person might give her answers. "Dr Ison?"

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to Nytetrayn? I'd like to know his reasons for dragging me here."

"You mean you don't know?"

"I know bits and pieces, but not the whole story."

"What's to know?" Dr Ison drawled, snapping off his latex gloves. "You were here once, as a part of a deal. Your father broke that deal. You're back. Deal fulfilled."

"Just like that. Returned goods."

"You might say so."

Celeste grunted and a slow horror spread to the roots of her hair as she realised everything about this conversation was as solid and tangible as a brick wall. "I don't have any say in the matter? No rights?"

Dr Ison shrugged. "If Asmodeus decides that you should have rights, then you'll have rights."

"I want to talk to him. Him or Nytetrayn."

"Not yet. But I did give clearance to a couple of visitors half an hour ago. They'll be here soon to talk to you. Relax 'til then."

It was a simple suggestion, but it wasn't easily followed.

* * *

Monroe's ride chaser geared down and then stopped completely. He scratched at the corner of his eye. "Looks like we're here." 

Zero noticed the way Cain's son put one foot down on the ground while the Chaser was at rest. The boy must have ridden motorcycles at some point in his life, and his father must have had plenty to say about _that_. "Yeah, seems we are."

"Not much of a place to live," murmured Seven, his eyes darting from one run-down shack to the next.

Monroe looked at Zero. "McTreggor told you this place was abandoned?"

"That's what she said."

"Bull," Seven retorted flatly. "Human senses are useless -- no offense, Cain sir -- but I can smell something hiding. And ... something else, like a whisper or a hum. But it's far away." He turned to the rest of the Black Unicorns gathered in a loose group at the centre of the broken village. "How 'bout any of you? You deny it?"

One Hunter crossed his arms over his handlebars. "No, I don't deny that I can sense something hiding here, but don't get stuck up about it."

Zero chuckled slightly. "Well, there was certainly some activity here recently. Doesn't take much to sense it." He waved his hand at the ground. "Those tiger lilies growing by that house, for example ... looks like someone pushed them aside to get to the door. Seems like our invaders ran here, all right."

Monroe looked around apprehensively. "Well, we should be careful if that's the case."

"That's the funny thing," Seven said. "I definitely smell people nearby, but it's not the same scent as the visitors--"

"Someone's still visiting," a Hunter suddenly growled and Zero instantly ignited his sabre and turned around.

A large human with a generous stomach-bulge stared balefully at the Hunters from the doorway of another house. His greasy jeans were in tatters around the hem and his ham-sized fists were clenched.

"Um, what?" was all another Hunter could manage.

"I'm sure I don't know," Zero said cautiously.

Monroe turned his head slightly. "That one of the invaders?"

Zero kept his voice low. "I don't think so. There was a certain rehearsed grace to those buggers. No beer bellies or hairy gorilla arms among them."

"Get!" the stranger shouted hoarsely.

"Is that even a sentence?" some Hunter asked. Scattered snickers rose up from the others.

Zero threw them sharp glances. "Don't relax just yet. You ever hear the legend about the schoolkids who had to retrieve a ball from a yard that was rumoured to have a rottweiler guarding it? They scaled the wall and found a Chihuahua instead. They laughed and made to grab the ball, the Chihuahua bit them and they died of infection weeks later."

Monroe raised his eyebrows. "Uh, can't say I've heard that. When I was in school, we used to always hear the one about the kid who stuck his head out the bus window and got decapitated by a telephone pole."

Seven leaned on his axe. "God, legends are stupid."

"They're not always supposed to make sense. They're supposed to keep you cautious."

Caution still seemed unnecessary. The human didn't move away from the door. Zero stepped forward. "All right, enough of all this. Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" the human said in a cracked voice. "We're living here peaceful enough. You damn robots made enough trouble the first time you came 'round. Nothing left here to rip up. Now go away."

"Huhhhhh," Zero sighed wearily. A new day, a new negotiation with a weirdo. "All right, look. We're not here to hurt anybody living here. We're on the trail of a ... pack of humans who attacked Maverick Hunter Headquarters. I know, it's mind-twistingly ironic, but can you tell us anything that might help?"

"Don't know what you're talking about. Don't care. But if Eden caused you any trouble, good on them."

"Sharp lad," Monroe noted.

"Dean, Dean. You've said too much. Move over, let me talk to these people."

The Hunters' ears all pricked up at the new voice that came from behind the bulky man. It was soft, and, Zero noted, curiously low to the ground.

The big human's features softened and he looked into the open door behind him. "Eli, I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't, I'm sure. Let me through."

The man hesitated but stepped aside. He stooped down as if he was about to retrieve something from inside the house.

"No, I'll get outside by myself," the voice was still quiet, but firm.

Now the Hunters waited as expectantly as children for a promised magic trick. Another human revealed herself in a few seconds, dragging herself slowly out of her house. "What the?" Zero murmured.

Monroe raised his fist to his mouth. "Her legs."

The young woman propped herself on her arms and regarded the group. She looked like a landlocked mermaid with her twisted, useless legs trailing behind her and the wind flicking her blonde hair into her face. Her blue eyes fixed on Zero.

"So," she said. "You've come back."

* * *

Sarah laughed as Jason dragged her towards the playground with the strength of a little horse. It had only been two nights since Evan had been put in the hospital, but their son was like any other kid; he had to check out every park he passed. 

The noon sun was plugged in and searing the earth like a million-watt bulb, but Sarah felt her spirits lifting. She needed a break away from the hospital. Evan was in stable condition, thank God, but he still couldn't remember exactly what had given him a massive puncture wound through his shoulder while out for a cigarette. Sarah was able to hazard a guess after the newspaper headlines started screaming about attacks on humans by shadowy Mavericks -- the first Mavericks in a while, and unlike other instances, no nutcases were claiming responsibility for the latest movement.

Oh, crap. How could she have forgotten about the Mavericks? Sarah glanced around the park, but everything was still and quiet. Traffic rattled faintly on the highway over the now-useless tobogganing hill at the south end, but even the starlings had completed their morning chorus early and roosted quietly through the hottest part of the day. Sarah relaxed. Reports had mentioned that the attacks occurred most commonly at night and in the early morning, anyway.

Jason finally ripped away from her hand and pounded across the gravel towards the swings. "Slow down! It's too hot to be tearing around," Sarah called after him, but he flung himself stomach-first onto one of the swings and rocked back and forth like a juvenile Superman in a training harness.

Kids, Sarah thought to herself again and pulled the collar of her cotton shirt in and out to fan herself. It was hot, all right, and she wasn't dressed for the heat. She spied a bench located at the edge of the playground, underneath a thick weeping willow. Oh, wouldn't that be nice? The bench would probably be covered in guano, but at least she could keep an eye on Jason in comfort. Sarah started towards the tree and jerked to a stop when a female reploid peered out at her from the shadows like a jungle-cat.

"Er, hi," Sarah heard herself say. "Hot, isn't it? Mind if I sit here with you?"

The Reploid continued to stare, and Sarah heard a faint cry. She immediately looked behind her, but Jason was happily zipping down a slide.

"Paul, Paul, hush now," the Reploid said suddenly, and when Sarah turned to look at her again, she noticed for the first time that she was holding a baby bundled in heavy blankets. Oh, God, in this heat. She started to sweat in sympathy for the baby.

"He's probably pretty hot. You might want to loosen his wraps a little."

The Reploid turned on her with fierce eyes. Sarah shrank back slightly, but she couldn't let the kid suffer. "Really. He can overheat and die."

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'll tell you what I _don't_ want, I don't want to watch that baby die on your lap!"

The brown-haired Reploid's expression softened, and she looked a little sad as she unwrapped the baby, who was dressed in a dirty sky-blue sleeper and cried more lustily now that he had air. Sarah noted with some surprise that he only seemed to be a few months old. Who would leave their newborn in the care of a Reploid sitter? One so incompetent, no less?

Sarah invited herself under the tree and sat down next to the Reploid. "You minding him for someone?"

"Yes," the Reploid said. "He ... he won't stop crying."

"Well, he was pretty hot. He'll feel better as he cools down. Here, can I hold him for a bit? Maybe he'll settle down faster."

"No," the Reploid said instantly, then lapsed into silence and the baby's cry became more insistent. "Yes. Okay." She handed the boy over to Sarah.

It had been a long time since Jason had been three months old, but her arms and intuition recalled the memory easily enough. She rocked and murmured to the baby, who quieted slightly but still kicked and twisted.

"Well, he's hungry and needs a change pretty bad. Ew. Probably got diaper rash. He's too uncomfortable to sleep, so he's probably grouchy too."

The Reploid didn't say anything.

"Is he on a bottle, or is his mother nursing him?"

"Bottle, I guess," the Reploid said.

"Maybe you should take him home. Get his mother to feed him, give him a nice bath and let him roll around naked for a little bit to clear up that rash." Sarah laughed a little. "He'll probably like that. Jason there, he's mine. Used to fling off his clothes at every opportunity. Good thing he outgrew that, I wouldn't want to see him in jail before he's much older."

The Reploid actually smiled a little. "I don't think we can go home yet."

"You didn't bring any supplies with you?"

"No ... I guess I forgot."

Sarah sucked on her teeth. She had figured some years ago that Reploids, no matter how advanced, were still machines and didn't have the instinct to take care of babies unless they were taught or programmed to do so. And yet, here was an interesting situation; Sarah could tell this Reploid beside her cared about the baby she held, but knew nothing about keeping it alive.

"The baby's name is Paul, right?"

"Yes, it is."

"And you're taking care of him for his mother? Where does she live?"

"Over there." the Reploid gestured vaguely to a skyscraper in the distance, one of many that ringed the city park. "But I told you, he can't go home yet."

"Why not?"

"He just can't." the Reploid's speech was quickening and she glanced around like a rabbit scouting out hiding places. She stood up. "His mother, his mother is sick. Here, give him back."

Sarah did as she asked, and instantly regretted it. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll walk."

"That baby needs to be cared for. Here, there's a store nearby. We can get some diapers, maybe some formula to hold him over 'til he goes home--"

"Wow!" Jason suddenly exclaimed, and Sarah squinted over her shoulder. Her son was perched on the monkey bars, swinging his legs excitedly and gaping at the blue Reploid who approached Sarah and the Reploid, the gravel crunching briskly under his metal boots.

Sarah's mouth likewise dropped. _Holy cow, is that X? The Maverick Hunter?_

Her son drew conclusions more readily. "It's X! It's X! Hi, X!"

The blue Hunter gave Jason a quick smile without slowing his approach. "Stay where you are," he called out to Sarah in a voice that was gentle, but firm. Sarah couldn't imagine it being the voice that stopped Sigma and countless other Mavericks, but it made her blood run cold nonetheless. What had she done? She froze, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the female Reploid beside her take off with surprising speed. X geared up in turn and tore across the playground to intercept her.

"Ah!" Jason suddenly said and started to howl a second later. Sarah instantly forgot her order to stand still and she ran to the monkey bars, where her son was curled up on the hot gravel, crying. To her surprise, X stopped his pursuit of the female Reploid and reached Jason before Sarah was even halfway there.

"C'mon sport, stand up," the Hunter said cheerfully to Jason, helping him on his feet. Jason stood up, wobbly-legged, and sniffed back his tears.

Sarah knelt down and inspected Jason quickly. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"He got a bit excited and fell down," X said, and smiled. "It's too hot to get all worked up."

"That's what I said to him earlier," Sarah said and laughed weakly at the private joke she suddenly shared with one of the world's most elite Hunters. "I don't think he's hurt. Is he?"

"Got a nasty scrape on the gravel, but I think he'll be okay once it's cleaned up--" X froze, shuddered for about five seconds, and opened his eyes again. "Sorry. Not feeling at the top of my game today."

"I'm sorry for moving even though you told me to stand still. Although ... I'm not sure why you asked me to."

"I wasn't after you, really. I was after that Reploid you were talking to."

"Oh! The one with the baby?"

X sighed. It was an interesting sound, Sarah noted, slightly more hollow-sounding than what would come from a human. "So she had a baby with her, did she?"

"She did. A hungry, dirty and tired baby. She said she was looking after it."

"It's not hers," X said, and seemed to reconsider something. "Er, well, I'm sure you were able to guess that much. But no one put her in charge of it, either. She kidnapped it."

"Oh my God." Sarah's hair stood on end. "And I was talking to her like ... she ..." Her hands flew up to her mouth. "I'm wasting your time! You're supposed to go after her! I'm so sorry--"

X cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry. It wasn't hard to track her down to this location, and I've got men all over the city." As if suddenly seized by that thought, X touched the side of his helmet and started speaking in jargon.

"All the same," Sarah said when he was done, "I'm sorry for delaying you. But thanks for taking care of Jason."

"No trouble." X ruffled the hair of the dusty young boy who slumped tiredly against Sarah, and she could feel gooseflesh pickle on his neck despite the heat. "I have to be on my way. Be careful. There's no immediate danger, but the city's in a bit of unrest." Then he was gone.

"That was X," Jason informed his mother solemnly.

"Was it?" Sarah humoured him.

"Yeah," Jason yawned.

Sarah hefted him against her hip. "You're getting too heavy to carry, but you've had a big day. Want to go tell your dad that you saw X?"

"Dad's always asleep."

"He can still hear you when you talk, you know. I'm sure he'd like to hear all about it. We can get Nurse Soule to clean up your arm too."

"No stingy stuff."

"No stingy stuff," Sarah promised absently, looking off at the buildings in the distance as she thought about the mother of the kidnapped baby.

* * *

_Stupid, stupid girl! You nearly ruined everything!_

"I'm sorry!" Iris sobbed, running hard down the sidewalk. Pedestrians turned and watched her curiously.

_Don't go tearing down the main streets, you great cow. X has his Hunters sniffing you out._

Iris plunged into an alley and slipped on a greasy patch of concrete. She banged against some trash cans and the furious sound jangled along with the voice inside her. _Didn't I tell you not to talk to anyone? Didn't I tell you to keep that baby wrapped and hidden?_

"He was dying! That woman--"

_--was a slovenly know-nothing. Whose baby is it? Hers, or yours?_

"Mine, mine," Iris whispered desperately. She clutched Paul tighter to herself, who was motion sick and spit up on the front of her jumpsuit.

_Stop for a minute. Do you hear anything?_

Iris burst from the alley, darted across the a side-street, and ducked into another alley. She breathed heavily and listened. Beyond the usual city-sounds, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "I don't think anyone's after me."

_Like I trust your judgment. You're as stupid as a gelding, but I'll hide you anyway. Stay where you are, I have someone on the way to pick you up._

And someone did arrive only five minutes later. A small beaky head on a long beige neck stretched around the chipped alley corner and called, "Iris?"

Iris shrank against the red-bricked wall. "Who is it?"

"Oh, at this point, you may as well call me the Porter of Hell's Gate. I always liked the sound of that."

"Aren't you--?"

Overdrive Ostrich lurched into the alley and leered at Iris with squinted eyes. He swayed drunkenly on his spindly legs and he smelled like disease. "We've both gotten ourselves into far more than we can handle, trust me."

Iris turned to run, but the large bird seized Iris and wrapped a hand around her mouth. He dragged her across the pavement like a demon ushering a soul to the Pit. "You think the worst is up here," Overdrive said cheerfully as Iris kicked and struggled, "but let me show you that you're dead wrong, chickadee."


	30. In God's Country

Aiden clattered down the catwalk with heavy strides. He stopped every twenty paces or so to glare over his shoulder at Caillou, who stumbled between Eden's other inhabitants.

"We don't have all day, Caillou."

"I'm coming," Caillou muttered, unable to stop himself in time from stumbling into Aiden's back. "Everyone makes way for you, but they try and walk all over me."

Aiden pushed him back in place by his shoulder, not roughly, but not in a kindly manner either. "What did I tell you about complaining?"

"Not to do it. All right, fair enough. You're the one risking your life. I'm as good as dead anyway."

"New rule, then. Keep your damn voice down." Aiden looked around apprehensively at the traffic ascending and descending the catwalk, but no one seemed to take any special notice of them. "All right, I'll try and go a bit slower. I know you've lost a lot of blood since you got your ear cropped."

"I'll be fine, but that does remind me. What'll Dr Ison say when he sees I'm okay? When Asmodeus first got me, I went to him, but he turned me away."

"Left you to his fate, did he?" Aiden said, amused. "Sounds like him. I doubt he'll say anything."

"Won't he tell Asmodeus? I'm sure he'll guess you helped me."

"If he tells, then he tells. I have a feeling he won't, though."

"Do you think he'll at least be suspicious about me visiting Celeste?"

Aiden paused with his hand on the door to the second, less used entrance of Eden's smaller Medical Centre. "Why would he be?"

"She's my--"

"Your half-sister, sure. What, you can't be curious? Ison gave us clearance to visit. If he was suspicious, he wouldn't have given us that much. He's a very straight forward man." Aiden pushed the door open. "That's why I like him, even if he _is_ a dedicated councilor here in Camp Asmodeus. Well, you going in or not?"

"Oh ...I thought you were going in first. I was waiting."

"What am I, a lady? Go, go." Aiden scooped his arm behind Caillou and shooed him into the room.

Caillou's eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dim room, but he was still able to spot his sister sitting up in one of the beds about five metres away from the door. She looked at him with a mix of curiosity and hostility.

_"My sister..." Too early to think of her as that._

Caillou stepped closer to the bed. "Er, hi there."

Celeste narrowed her eyes, but she said, "Hi. Are you the visitors Ison told me to expect?"

Her voice was low and hoarse. One small hand rested on the beige hospital blanket and an identification bracelet encircled her slim wrist. Not an Oroborus Band, Caillou noted with some interest and a bit of bitterness. She was already worth more than him.

"Yeah, Ison probably told you that we were coming,"Aiden said from behind Caillou.

"Well then, who are you?"

Caillou's tongue felt too thick to answer, and Aiden gave him a small shove. "I'm Aiden Spar. This specimen here is Caillou. He's my grandson and your half-brother. I wanted you to meet him."

Celeste's fingernails whispered across the blanket as she curled her hand into a fist. "Nytetrayn told me I had a half-brother. I didn't believe him." She ran her eyes up and down Caillou. "I'm still not sure if I do."

"It's Jake, Celeste. He's my father too."

Aiden grunted.

"So he _was_ here. I guess I knew as much, but I didn't imagine that he..." Celeste paused awkwardly. "...had an affair."

"Oh, he had the mother of all affairs, let me tell you." Aiden hitched the pistol hanging off his shoulder. "I don't know why you'd put it beyond him, girl. You and your brother here seem to believe your father wasn't capable of any wrong."

"'Brother'," Celeste repeated slowly. "That's kind of an intimate word. Caillou, it's nice to meet you and everything, but you'll have to forgive me for not wanting to jump up and give you a hug or anything."

"He doesn't really look like your father at first glance," Aiden admitted, "so I can understand why you'd be suspicious. He takes more after my daughter, except when he does something completely irrational and stupid. Then he's his father all over. Looking at the two of you side by side though, I can see traces of Jake. The way you hold yourselves, some of your gestures ... you got the same eyes, though. No mistaking that."

Caillou and Celeste evaluated each others' eyes with an intense glance that broke off shyly on both ends. Sure enough, there was the brand they'd both received from their father.

"So. You just came here to meet me?"

"Well--"

"I wanted to talk to Nytetrayn or Asmodeus, but the doctor here says that now's not the time."

"Yeah, Ison pretty much calls the shots in this place," Aiden nodded. "I'm surprised he let us come to visit you. He's a fair man though, he'll let you see Nyte and Asmodeus soon enough."

"But what do you want? I can't say I'm happy about being here, so I'm probably not going to be a model sibling if you're looking to get together for beers or something."

Caillou had to chuckle. "Just wanted to introduce myself and tell you--" he looked over his shoulder, but the room was still empty. "--sit tight. That's all."

Celeste stared.

"We're your friends. I mean it."

Dr Ison was suddenly behind them, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest. "Caillou, Aiden ... time to go. Celeste needs to rest."

"Eurf," Aiden sighed exhaustedly. "Let's go, Caillou."

Caillou's heart leaped into his throat. "Right, right. See you later, Celeste."

Celeste said nothing as the pair left.

"Think Ison heard us?" Caillou whispered to Aiden as they stepped back out into the life of Eden.

"Likely," Aiden grunted, running a hand over his close-shorn head.

"What do we do?"

"I dunno. Keep existing, I guess. Pray God we form some semblance of a plan before someone else catches on and we're force-fed our own intestines."

Caillou's face fell. "That's the thing. We don't have a plan."

"How're we supposed to have a plan against this?" Aiden hissed, gesturing around the Great Tree. "All we can do is play things by ear and hope Nytetrayn's not screwing us over. I'm beginning to think that he might have a plan after all. He delivered Celeste and kept you alive. That's more than I was expecting out of him, to be honest."

* * *

Enough time had passed that Celeste was sure her entrance into Eden wasn't a dream. She patted the bowl of her spoon on the broth that Ison had wordlessly delivered to her a few minutes ago. She was miserable with tension. Her body, unsure of what was around the corner, wouldn't afford her to lower her defences for a second. She thought with grim amusement that she was experiencing the life of a rabbit or some other prey animal ...constantly on the edge, always on the lookout for the eagle's talons. The act of dodging death on the battlefield or in the meadow wasn't so bad. It was the endless waiting and imagining that exhausted the body and mind.

Indeed, Eden was already a land of surprises. Not even a few hours since check-in, and she'd already met her fabled half-brother. Celeste frowned. Her half-brother. That was a hell of a thing right there. She should've suspected that her father, much as she loved him, wouldn't be able to park his body in one spot for long before he left his DNA behind. She'd played witness to the violent fights and accusations between him and her mother often enough. Celeste had never been sure how much of it was true, although Silvia did stop accusing Jake of tomcatting once he pointed out that Celeste's little brother, Johan, looked suspiciously like the postman. It was probably a bitter jest; Johan was a little clone of Jake, barring the inheritance of his mother's brown eyes. Regardless, Silvia had little more to say after that.

Oh, the eyes. Caillou had the same as her, no doubt about that. Celeste closed her own. She'd never had a spectacular face or body, but her eyes had certainly been enough to get her into trouble six months after Jake's death, on that confused moonlight-drenched night in the backseat of Theo Tod's car when he pushed her bangs back and admired her eyes like a midnight sky...

Well, whatever. Celeste put her bowl of soup aside and threw off her blanket.

Dr Ison was by her side in a second. "Well now, where are we going?"

"Out. This is my new home, so I may as well become intimate with it."

Ison put his hand on Celeste's shoulder and she could feel his hand tighten ever so slightly. "Not a good idea. Not yet, anyway. You're not healthy enough."

"I'm fine." Celeste stood up and swayed for a second like a sleepy kitten, but then righted herself. "See?" She reached for her clothes.

"Indeed I do, but you want to talk to Nytetrayn or Asmodeus? You won't get anywhere by disobeying direct orders, I'll tell you that much."

"You're not going to present them to me, so I'll find them myself." Celeste clumsily pulled on her shirt. She was still hurting from her encounter with Iris, and her bruised hand still ached terribly in its splint, but she wasn't about to let Ison know. She was getting pretty good at hiding wounds.

Ison seemed amused enough to drop out of the argument, but he did say, "You should at least be wearing Eden's issue clothes."

"I'm not--"

"Celeste, listen. Your father was talented, but his independent streak ruined several lives down here. The same won't be tolerated from you. You're no good to anyone if you're dead." Ison fixed her with a stare. "Absolutely no one. Do you understand?"

The fire in Celeste died as she read the message in Ison's eyes. Welcome home, dear girl.

"Where's my new uniform?" she asked heavily.

"Good girl." Ison reached up on a shelf and produced a forest-green jumpsuit. "Hope this'll fit. I'll leave you to get changed."

Celeste struggled into the jumpsuit, feeling as if lead weights were tied to her wrists and ankles. Her brain and soul felt miserable, but all she could do was struggle forward, even though her body felt like it had been worked over by a pony's hooves. "I'm pretty eager to break some rules, maybe some heads while I'm at it," she said evenly.

Ison laughed. "That threat doesn't suit you. You know, if you just submit, you'll find life here so much easier."

"I can't imagine how much trouble that would get me into." Celeste zipped up her jumpsuit. "I'm not even sure what you bastards all have planned for me here, so why would I just roll over?"

"Oh ... when you were younger, I think we had simple enough plans for you. Train you, marry you off at eighteen or so, have children, help bring an end to Reploid life on the surface. I don't see any reason why the plan would change at this point."

"This is bloody crazy," Celeste spat. "You ransacked Maverick Hunter Headquarters just to find _me?_"

Ison raised an eyebrow. "Don't be giving yourself an ego, now. That attack on HQ has been a while in coming. The glove-slap preceding the duel, if you will. You were a side-quest, a sort of "I-dare-you" from Asmodeus to Nytetrayn, but not worth mounting a war for. We did send someone after you a while ago, but it never panned out and we didn't sweat it too much. We knew it'd be nice to have McTreggor blood around here again, but you've got a lot of the surface world embedded in you ... rebellious, disagreeable. I'm also sorry to say that you weren't an overly-talented child. Arlen used to curse about you a lot."

"Arlen?" Saying the word chilled Celeste as if she'd received the name of a terminal disease that had been plaguing her. "Who is that?"

"Was," Ison corrected her. "He trained the children of Eden. When you want to hunt abominations, there's no better teacher than ... an abomination."

"You mean...?"

"He was a robot, yes."

Celeste felt dizzy.

"Your father busted him up pretty good in a fight. Arlen disappeared after that. You all did, actually."

There was a simple chair pushed up at Ison's desk near Celeste's bed, and she gripped the back of it weakly. "This is all a bit much."

"A shock to your system, I'm sure, which is already in rough shape. Are you sure you don't want to rest?"

Celeste straightened up, closed her eyes, and opened them again. She could see a bit more clearly now, with both her eyes and her heart. She had been here once, and she had escaped. Whatever might come, she could do that much again. Eden wouldn't make her submit, never. She walked away from Ison wordlessly and pushed open the door nearest to her.

"That's the broom closet," Ison had time to say before a falling mop handle smacked Celeste a good one on her forehead. She cursed as she pushed the mop back into place, and then tried for the larger door beside the closet. Warm air roared quietly past her ears and ruffled her hair as she pushed, and the scent of cloth and flesh, metal, oil and war engulfed her before she actually saw its origin.

Outside the quiet hospital room, there were people. People dressed for battle, and Mechadrakes, a species constantly ready for strife. They crawled like insects on winding catwalks that ascended for a staggering distance around a cylindrical chamber.

"What?" Celeste whispered to herself, frozen on the spot. Drowning in her dreams and nightmares, she couldn't bring herself to say anything else, and rational thought was unimaginable, except, ironically, for the same question Aiden had placed to Caillou only minutes earlier.

_How do I fight THIS?_

* * *

"There's nothing left for you here," the fair-haired girl said evenly to Zero. "We're shadows."

Seven cocked his head. "Awful lively for shadows."

"Seven, shut up," Zero said automatically, not taking his eyes off the girl. "You're mistaken, miss. I've never been here before."

The humans clustered in front of them laughed jeeringly. Monroe scratched the side of his head and winced when his nails caught his sunburned cheek. "There seems to be a hearty joke going on here at our expense. Who wants to fill me in?"

"Not me," Zero said flatly. "Apparently I'm the punch line, but I'll be damned if I know why."

The girl shook her head slowly. "Not a punch line. You're Zero. You're too deadly to be funny. But you're still as beautiful as you were on that day. Like a fallen angel."

Seven laughed through his nose.

"How can you forget?" Dean shot furiously. "I know you robots don't got heart or soul, but how can you forget _this?_" The big man jabbed a finger at the girl. "She was hardly more than a baby, and you busted her legs. She hardly got a chance to use 'em."

"What are you--"

"_After_ you killed her parents, no less. And after you killed my wife before that." Anger contorted Dean's greasy, shaggy face and he seized a rock at his feet and threw it. Monroe made a surprised sound and veered a little, but Zero caught the missile as casually as a ball player at a summer game.

"Bastard!" Dean snarled. "You don't care. Why should you? You'll live forever."

"I don't know, his life might be cut short by my hand once I figure out what's going on here." Monroe's voice was dangerous. He regarded the girl. "You knew Zero's name."

"I won't forget it soon. I won't forget that day."

"His name doesn't mean anything," one Hunter interjected. "Everyone knows it. It's in newspapers, on television..."

Monroe slowly gazed around the meagre village and the endless, empty sea of grass that surrounded it. He fixed the reploid with a bemused look.

"Right," the reploid mumbled.

"I see the dog isn't defending himself," Dean grunted.

Zero smiled and let the rock slide off his palm. "Despite being a 'dog' who supposedly ripped up your lives, I see you're awfully bold towards me."

"It's what Eli said. There's nothing here for you to feed on anymore. We have nothing to lose."

"I think you have some powerful friends behind you." Zero dusted off his hands. "You called me a robot."

"Yeah, so? Sky's blue, ain't it?"

"Meaning?"

"That's what you are. A robot."

"If you want to call a tiger a cat, then sure. I'm a robot." Zero unlatched his helmet and let the wind take his hair. He watched Eli, and sure enough the girl winced as if burned.

"There was another robot with you," she said.

"Was there?"

"A black robot. Cruel eyes. The two of you seemed close."

"And supposedly, we're the ones who ripped this place up? Funny how I don't remember it. What was this village before, some sterling tourist destination? Somehow I doubt it."

"Zero." There was a warning in Monroe's voice.

"This was a mining settlement," Eli said. "I'll admit society's best didn't live here beforehand, but my mother didn't deserve to die. Not by your hand."

"I didn't come here to talk in riddles. Who are you hiding--"

"Detain him," Monroe said tonelessly.

Zero's arms were pulled roughly and suddenly behind his back, and his helmet fell from his hand when someone thumped him on the back of his bare head with the butt of some instrument. _Damned if it wasn't Seven who did that..._

The panther wandered into Zero's wavering sight, grinning and patting the flat of his axe. "Where's your unit badge, friend? It seems to be absent from your person."

Zero turned his head slowly and saw two of his own holding him sway, two Reploids he'd shared the trenches with since the first Maverick war and would have trusted with his life only seconds ago. That was the dangerous business about war; you didn't know who was going to betray you until it was too late.

But not everyone. "Cain, sir! You can't do this to Zero."

"It's only temporary," Monroe said to the distraught Hunter who'd spoken for his Commander. "There has been a very serious accusation raised by a human. I have my reasons for thinking it deserves investigation."

"The attackers--"

"Will be dealt with very shortly. This is top priority." Monroe faced Zero. "You've been here before. You know this girl. I can hear it in your voice."

The Hunter looked at boots, furred with dust, and his shoulders shuddered with restrained laughter.

"I don't see what's so barking funny," Seven growled.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Zero lifted his head and caught his breath in a slow draw. "I just find this kind of amusing. If you want a _real_ joke, though, let's talk about Reploids and fair justice."

"What does that mean?" Monroe said sharply.

"It means I tracked down that hybridization of Sting Chameleon when he first entered the city. I fought him, and I killed him for his crimes. He asked for proof of his offences, and I had none. He seemed satisfied with that because he knew how the Hunters operate. If that freak can accept his fate quietly, I can do the same. I can do more."

Monroe's lips tightened, but he didn't answer.

"I won't get a trial, will I."

"Once further investigations have been conducted, you'll stand before the Tribunal."

Zero mumbled slowly to himself, then said "What happens 'til then? Am I entitled to bail?"

"What do you think?" Monroe said flatly. "You're a Hunter, you know how the process goes."

"No, I didn't think so."

"You've chosen an awfully convenient time to suddenly weep for the state of your downtrodden race." Monroe peeled his damp bangs from his forehead. "Once we're back at Headquarters, you're getting your systems scanned. My father never bothered, and Lifesaver tried to squirm out of it, and there may very well be blood on their hands because of it. And on my hands."

"No one else will take responsibility for my actions," Zero said evenly. "I won't stand for it."

It was easy to break out of his Hunters' grip; there was a reason they were below him. There was a reason all life was below him, and he reveled in it as his fingers dug into Seven's throat.

"Glrk!" the panther choked. He grasped Zero's wrist fruitlessly as the Hunter lifted him off the ground, and his legs flailed like a landed fish.

"We oughta finish what we started, friend."

Energy sizzled, and pain jerked through Zero's arm. He dropped Seven roughly, but managed to land a kick in the panther's gut. Seven yelped and clutched himself, but recovered quickly and was on his feet. The heavy blade of his axe wedged itself in Zero's shoulder and split his armour like knotty pine. The crimson Reploid fell to one knee and grit his teeth as he pushed his shoulder up against the axe. Seven's eyes glittered with hatred. "What the hell are you _made of?_" He wriggled his weapon out of its crevice and raised it again.

_"The humans!"_ Monroe's desperate shout rose above the row. _"Stop before they get hurt!"_

Indeed, the humans. Most of them had fled from the vicinity of Zero and Seven, but Eli couldn't, with her useless legs. She watched Zero, her eyes level with his. She didn't try and drag herself away--maybe she had too much dignity--and she flinched when Zero reached out and cupped his hand under the girl's chin.

She started to tremble, and her eyes were haunted. "Don't do it again. Please don't."

Zero shook his head slowly and pulled himself to his feet. His shoulder sizzled and fluids bled down his arm in thick black ropes. He looked at Dean, who stood in limbo between Eli and the other humans who'd pulled away from Zero and Seven. "Well, Mr Nobleman? You going to help her, or are you just the brave and broken hero when there's no immediate danger to yourself?"

Dean told the Hunter where to go as he approached Eli and lifted the girl into his arms. They both retreated to the shadows of the nearest cabin's threshold. Zero stood in the circle of humans and battle-tense Hunters, a baited bear waiting for the bloodsport to begin.

"So, who's going to fight me? You're my men, you trained with me. You know my weaknesses."

Some of the Reploids took tentative steps forward, then reeled back. Even Seven stood motionless with his axe planted in the ground, breathing heavily. Zero's kick was evidently catching up with him.

It was Monroe who stepped up to him. "Surrender quietly, Zero."

"Why start now?"

"You're unstable. I knew it from the first, and my father knew it, too. And you might be in big trouble if the girl's accusations turn out to be true, but you're a good Hunter. Come quietly, and I'll help you."

"Like you 'helped' Celeste?"

"I don't want to lose you."

Monroe used the same voice and body language a veterinarian would use with an injured wild animal. Zero bowed his head for a second, then looked up again. "I'm not interested in accusations. Evidence, witnesses ... that's the least I can do."

Zero seized Monroe by the arm and the boy staggered forward almost comically. The other Hunters were jolted out of their stupor and rushed the red Reploid. Zero jerked Monroe back as he slingshot past, and Cain's son howled with pain as his shoulder dislocated. Zero dug his knee into the base of Monroe's spine, and the boy crumpled.

Half of Zero's men ran to help Monroe. The other half jumped on him. Zero shook them off and dove for his Ride Chaser, which started with an easy kick and roared south, spitting up dust, leaving behind houses, lives and bones all broken by his hand.

* * *

The light of the day was beginning to take on a darker, used hue when Zero finally stopped, and the silence rang in his ears. He panted with exertion and terror, but also some small element of relief; it was finally over. It had happened.

Now he just had no idea what happened next.

Jagged mountains bristled in front of him like the spines of a dragon. His southward flight had been cut short by the huge sentinels, so he'd turned his path west and followed alongside. His Ride Chaser could take the foothills, but he doubted the lower models could. Elevated above the plains on a grassy swell, the Hunter glanced down at the trail snaking its way through the tall grass. His head and heart throbbed with dizzy thoughts. It didn't seem as if anyone had pursued him anyway. Either he was considered too dangerous, or it was determined he was a fugitive anyway and couldn't run for long before being recognised. Or Monroe was dead, and more important things took priority. Zero closed his eyes tight and silently mouthed meaningless words. He drew a calming breath and said to his bundle, "What made you quit hollering for me to stop?"

"I noticed you weren't stopping," Jody said, faceless in his hiding spot. "So why bother?"

Zero unwound the baggage from the back of his bike and lifted it as gently as a groom with his bride, mindful of his cracked shoulder. Then he spread his arms and Jody grunted when everything spilled to the ground roughly.

"Come on out," Zero said, putting his hands on his hips and looking back out at their darkening trail. "May as well."

Jody crawled from the womb of blankets, slick and panting. His clothes stuck to his lanky frame, and his hair was soaked with sweat. He pat the ground blindly and retrieved the canteen that had fallen from the rest of the supplies. The boy leaned back drank deeply. "Oh Christ," he gasped, jerking forward and replacing the cap on the drained container. "I don't know how I didn't die in that oven. I really don't."

"You Eden-dwellers are a hardy breed I guess," Zero responded dryly.

"Seems like we're more sane that you Reploids, too. I have to admit, I don't have a super-computer brain, but I think my plan was a bit more sensible than yours."

"That wasn't in the script."

"Gee, wasn't it?"

"What, me going nuts at the sight of my past and attacking my Commander?" Zero snarled, clenching his fists. "Being driven into a violent rage like a cornered fox? No, I can't say it was."

"You missed my sarcasm, I guess." Jody scrabbled to his feet. "So, you _were_ familiar with that village?"

"Oh ... I don't know." Zero pressed his palms against his aching optics and pushed his head slowly backward. "I don't know. I think so."

"You 'think so?' What does that mean?"

What was it _supposed_ to mean? Zero couldn't find words to relay the sudden, sick nostalgia that'd enveloped him when he saw those humans and Eli's dark, trembling lips against her skin, pale with fear, like blood against the snow. Blood on the snow. He remembered that much. And when it had all been set before him, he knew it was over. He'd evaded the humans' accusations for as long as he could before Monroe closed in on him. He had seen the end coming; he just didn't think it'd come so soon. And he definitely didn't imagine he'd ever spare a thought for the Mavericks that had fallen before him. Reploids were not revered in Human society. They couldn't thrive. He'd known it all along; he'd said as much to X on that July evening when they recalled the first Maverick War. Why did he suddenly care? Zero shuddered. X would hear all about his attack, and maybe he wouldn't be surprised. He'd be sad, though. All that remained after years of fighting side by side in savage wars.

"Hey, good job calling the Tribunal a 'circle jerk.' That was stunningly accurate."

Zero had to smile. "So you heard that, did you."

"Well, you mumbled, but it was still loud enough. 'Scuse me a sec." Jody relieved himself against the front axel of Zero's Ride Chaser. "Ah yeah. Good stuff."

Zero turned and walked past Jody, grasping the back of his head and slamming it against the windshield. The boy clutched his bruised forehead and barked, "You _do_ have issues."

Zero started to gather up the scattered supplies. "I bit the hand of my master. What do I have to lose? At least I now have the opportunity to establish and enforce a few rules."

"What about a new plan? That's a better idea."

"I'm done with running for tonight. We'll rest."

"Good, I can use something to eat."

"No fire." Zero sifted some flat packages through his hands. "Lots of ration bars, though. Bit on the melty side."

Jody grunted. "No substitute for a hot meal. If you don't want me to light a fire, don't expect me to be at my best for sentinel duty tonight."

Zero dropped the bars at Jody's boots. "I'll take watch all night, you baby. I don't need to sleep. Anyway, I have plenty to think about, like the look on Monroe's face as I killed him."

"I didn't see what happened, but I heard it well enough. There's a good chance he's not dead, you know. He's probably just really, really hurt."

"It's all the same when you're a Reploid." Zero flopped on the grass and pressed his back to his Ride Chaser. "And I may as well point out, you just witnessed the reason I can't get close to Celeste."

"But we're still going to help her, right?"

"Oh, sure. You just marked my Ride Chaser as your territory. Why shouldn't I help you do the same with the girl I care for?"

Jody stretched out on the grass across from Zero and pillowed his head with the crook of his arm. He watched the Reploid silently for a moment, then said, "And now you know why Eden is going after Reploids."

"Because of potential freak-outs?"

"That would be part of it. God is perfect. Humans, the next generation, are chaotic. Reploids, the third, are just plain nuts. The line needs to be cut off while there's still time.."

Zero plucked at a tuft of grass. "Well, aren't we just learning so much about each other."

"I bet tommorow'll be better."

"I bet. Now be quiet."


	31. Another Sort of Homecoming

Zero shook his head. "What a terrible plan."

Jody's hands tightened on his crossed knees and he spit on the grass. "You come up with a better one and we'll follow it, sweetheart."

"I didn't say we won't follow it, I just think it's terrible. I have a right to my opinions." Zero ran his fingers through his ratty hair and glanced around. He'd hear any intruders long before they'd sneak up on him, but he was as jittery as a racehorse on marbles. "How do we get into Eden? I guess there was an entrance from that village, but I'm not hot to go back there just yet."

"We go in the same way Celeste's father got out."

"How was that?"

"The Hollow." Jody looked at the blowing foothills. "You chose a bad direction when you ran like a girl. Off to the east, deeper in the mountains, there's a river. It runs out of Eden."

Zero pulled himself to his feet and sighed when his joints sizzled and groaned in protest. "You sound like the Book of Genesis. I think I can smell water somewhere, but it's very faint. I'd try and get a better look around, but the mountains keep me from a clear view. Getting an iron tongue in my eye didn't help matters, either. Lifesaver fixed it best he could, but I can't focus as easily as I could."

"I sympathise with your poor bones, old man. I think you're imagining things. The river's really not that close."

"What's the 'Hollow?'"

Jody smiled. "You gotta feed an underground city somehow."

"So, it's..."

"Eden's hunting grounds. The river I'm referring to runs at the very bottom of Eden and through a large cavern. We keep animals there. Deer, mostly, but some rabbits too, though they aren't more than a mouthful. We once even bred a few bison."

Zero frowned thoughtfully. "Aren't bison nearly extinct?"

"Dunno. They were definitely tasty."

"So you keep animals holed up in the dark and kill them when it's time to eat. That's nice."

Jody plucked a dry grass stalk and twirled it in his fingers. "About as nice as the way you all feed your cities with animals born and killed in factories. And anyway, it's not that bad. There's some light, though the plants down there are mostly nocturnal. The deer roam free and feed 'til it's their time."

"Who gets to ice them for dinner?"

"Whoever, I guess. Though, when it's time for a boy to get married, he kills his own deer and prepares it, and the families come together for a meal." Jody glanced up. "I was looking forward to hunting for Celeste, when the time came."

"I think Celeste is far more capable of kicking a deer's ass than you are."

"I never said she wasn't. It's just a tradition. Women in Eden are raised to be equal to males on the battlefield, but a husband is ultimately responsible for providing for his wife. Hunting for the deer proves that to the girl, and her family." Jody pulled a face. "Not that I would've had much desire to prove anything to Jake."

"Hmm," Zero murmured distractedly, trying to get a better fix on the river. "Seems like the whole damn world got to meet Jake 'cept for me."

"You weren't missing much."

"Not prime father-in-law material, I guess? Celeste was crazy about him, though she doesn't say much."

"Then how do you know how she feels about him?"

Zero shrugged. "I can just tell."

"We crossed paths once or twice," Jody said darkly. "And he cracked my head against the wall."

"Well, there's a shame. You're a big man, I'm sure you walked it off."

"I did, but it would have been much easier if I weren't five years old at the time."

Zero whistled low. "He did that? He was supposedly not one to subscribe to typical morals, but you gotta be kidding me."

Jody shook his head. "I'm not. Celeste was hurt and I tried to help her, but Jake whacked me."

"Interesting."

"Hey, you two have something in common. You both like to hurt little kids."

Zero gripped his fist, but no matter how often he tried, he couldn't fire off a round of machine-gun knuckle-pops like humans did when they tried to impress a rival.

Jody eyed him. "Too far, big guy?"

"Get up. You want to get into Eden or not? Tell me more about this river."

"Not much more to know. It runs fast. It's wet."

"Oh, aren't you clever. But think about it. For your plan to hold any water, 'scuse me, it wouldn't do for you to slink into Eden like a whipped dog coming back home. You're better off walking through the front door like the grand hero you are."

Jody chewed on the grass stalk pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Hate to admit it, but you're right. And your earlier performance has blocked off our nearest entrance."

"So there's another."

"There is." Jody shifted into a kneeling position and started to pull up grass. "But it's not going to be an easy trek." He scratched at the grass stubble with his fingernails and revealed hard-packed dust. He started to trace vague shapes with his finger. "We'll need to go deeper into the mountains, heading northwest. There's a tunnel that eventually winds down the mountain and into Eden. It's a long walk and I don't know if we have enough supplies with us. I was trained to fight on an empty stomach, but water's another matter. I have to admit, I'm still a bit wrung out from riding in cargo. I guess we could try for the river, but I think it'd be a futile attempt, ultimately."

"We'll think of something," Zero said calmly.

"Easy for you to say. But I think you're right. Either way, we need to get started."

"I know. The Hunters are probably after me by now, but we'll be much harder to track in the mountains."

Jody snorted. "Nevermind the Hunters, I bet they're too busy weeping into their hankies to get organised enough for a man-hunt. I'm more worried about Celeste. If she doesn't cooperate, they'll find ways to make sure she does. Or they'll ditch her entirely if they decide she's not worth the trouble. They had enough of a bad time with her father."

"Let's go, then. How long do you think the trip to Eden will take, overall?"

"Four days, I'd wager. Maybe three if we're lucky. It'll have to be on foot. I don't think the Chaser will go much further in this terrain."

"Let's go," Zero repeated grimly.

* * *

"I'll kill you before I let you hurt Paul."

"For the love of criminy woman, I'm not going to hurt your miserable human spore. _You_ might be another matter if you don't shut your trap, though."

Iris stumbled a little on the slimy bricks when she was pushed from behind. "I don't care about myself, but I won't let you touch Paul."

"Huzzah."

Paul's cries rang off the yellow-and-grey concrete walls of the sewers as Overdrive Ostrich ushered Iris through the tomb. Sometimes he wondered sluggishly why he, a reploid originally built to patrol wide-open savannah, was allowing himself to die slowly underground, knee-deep in humans' waste-water and runoff. He could vaguely remember something about wanting to impress Phoenix ... something about a pony? Nice girl, that Phoenix. Oh, a bit abrasive at times, but what was a thump upside the head once in a while in comparison to working for an utterly, utterly twisted Mechadrake who turned nice girls into ravenous wolves and used desperate Reploids as pawns to kidnap babies for God-knew-what?

"Where are we going?" Iris whispered, and the sound slithered across the walls.

"To give tithing to the man who delivered you from X. It'll be grand."

"The one who led me to Paul?"

"The very same."

Iris pressed Paul closer to her, but the baby wouldn't stop crying. "I'm grateful. I'm very grateful. But..."

Overdrive gave her another push. "Stow it, dear. I have enough troubles without listening to the lamentations of a single mother who has no business being one."

Iris was quiet for the duration of the march. Before they'd quite reached Torrent's lair, the water dragon's grinning head flew from around a corner and Iris screamed, stomping Overdrive's large toes as she leaped backwards.

"Happy to finally meet you, my dear," Torrent cackled.

Iris didn't break her terrified gaze even as Overdrive squawked in pain and shoved her away from him. "My God! Who are you?"

"Your benefactor." Torrent's smile dropped and was replaced with a bored stare. "I was hoping you'd be a titch less predictable."

"You're not him," Iris sobbed. "Leave me alone. You have to leave me alone!"

Torrent smiled at Overdrive and swept his hand forward to indicate Iris. "This is more like it! If I have to deal with something as sad as a delusional bint who was once mankind's deadliest weapon, I like to at least be entertained. Listen, girl. I'm not interested in plea bargains or negotiations. I never have been. You owe me a great deal, and I'll collect my dues now. Namely, that babe in your arms."

"No!"

"Oh, but yes. You're not capable of taking care of him. You can't even follow orders, so what right have you to tell me otherwise?"

Iris turned on her heel and tried to run, stumbling instead into Overdrive's plumage. A metal-tipped feather pricked Paul under his eye, and a bead of blood swelled and traced a swift angle down his pale cheek.

"Don't bother asking me for help," Overdrive grunted, grabbing Iris by the shoulders and turning her around to face her nightmare.

Torrent chuckled and tipped Iris' chin up. "I'm not without morals, sweet girl. Tell you what. You calm down and be a good girl, and I'll let you hold Paul for a little longer, okay?"

"I--"

"Do we have a deal or not? You're free to refuse, but I'll be taking Paul from you otherwise. Unless you believe you, as a guest in my house, can overpower me. Go on, punch me."

Iris shuddered and swallowed. "I'll cooperate."

"Now that's what I like to hear. On our way, then."

Iris and Overdrive's' quick footsteps pinged through the labyrinth, and Torrent's stride was more of a shuffle and drag, kin to the movement of something re-animated. The pace he set was nonetheless brisk, and in a few minutes he led his apprentice and his guest to his favourite clearing, a large concrete island surrounded by dawdling sewer runoff.

"A river runs through it," Torrent said mildly. "What do you think of my latest?" The Mechadrake nodded his head towards some sort of capsule-like creation hobbled together with bits and pieces like some glass and metal Frankenstein. A jungle of tubes crept up a glass front, filled with murky water and it looked fiendishly elaborate ... and small.

"What is it?" Iris' voice was sharp.

Torrent lifted a scaly eyebrow at her, and shrugged. "A trifle. A gift for my good apprentice here, who's been so patient through my deep musings and potent rages."

"A coffin," Iris said softly. "A coffin for a baby."

"What are you, mad? A baby's coffin is a grim little thing. This is quite the opposite."

"Then why? Why do you want to take Paul away from me?"

Torrent narrowed his eyes mirthfully. "You're not using him, are you? Just clutching him like a teddy bear. You're a bunny-hugger."

"A what?"

"Someone who likes to hug and pet cute little kitties, bunnies and babies 'til you realise how much work goes into taking care of them. That's why you've been having such a hard time looking after Paul ... you simply don't want to."

Overdrive blinked sleepily as he lifted his eyes from Iris, looked at Torrent, and dropped them again. He didn't know what kind of game his mentor was playing, but what else was new? Whatever the game was, Overdrive figured he was involved in at least some small way; Iris thrashed, and Overdrive had to brace his limbs to keep her from breaking away.

Torrent scratched at the side of his neck. "You're angry because you know I'm right. I told you what you had to do to grab Paul--and it took you long enough to do it--but what's become of your grand plans? Where's your happy family? Isn't Zero supposed to be by your side? And a smiling baby? All I see is a soggy, hungry sprog and a twit of a girl. No Zero, unless he turned invisible."

Overdrive felt a little more awake when Iris' scream of rage and pain, exaggerated by the sewer's hollow, rattling acoustics, pierced his brain. He opened his eyes wide. "Ouch. Torrent, I think--"

Torrent ignored him and laughed at Iris' torment. "I wish I could visit the future and see all of Reploidkind's achievements documented. It'd be a mighty small pamphlet, mind you, but I think you'd have a sentence or two in there. You're this century's greatest comedy act. 'Iris: the less exciting half of an impotent battle machine. Flew clear over the cuckoo's nest when her brother died. Robbed cradles to satisfy some oddball glitch that was exclusive to her empty little head.'"

Overdrive's fingers nearly wrenched out of their sockets when Iris ripped away from him and threw herself at Torrent. Her ferocity was so potent, Overdrive hesitated before he sprang after her. There was no danger to Torrent; the Mechadrake merely stretched out a paw and caught the female reploid by the head before she even got within swinging distance. Overdrive winced a little when Iris' neck snapped clear back and she crumpled to the ground as silently as leaves in October. Paul fell hard where Iris' limp arms dropped him, and his cries took on a more urgent pitch.

"That's an annoying sound," Overdrive observed, massaging one of his sore hands with the other.

"Humans and alligators are a lot alike," Torrent said as he scooped up Paul with one hand. "Aside from the fact they're both dawdling, reptilian and largely useless, both species have obnoxious, shrieking offspring that have no defence other than to scream like something demented, so that an adult might help them."

"What about Iris?"

"What about her?"

"Is she dead?"

"Oh, well, I don't know." Torrent tickled Paul delicately under the chin with one claw, and the baby's cry, surprisingly, turned into a gurgling laugh. "Take her to sector 3-I and throw her in the soup. She'll wash out into the dam and get sucked into the turbines. That'll dead her good and proper if she isn't already. Then come back here ... we have work to do. You didn't believe me when I told you this creation of mine was a gift, eh? I'll show you a thing or two."

"Sure," Overdrive mumbled, gathering Iris into his arms, shifting them to keep himself from spilling her. It was like holding a bundle of laundry. He exited the crypt and heard Torrent tune up his raspy-rich voice in a song about the elemental properties of water.

"Iris, Iris, Iris," Overdrive addressed his company once they were out of range of Torrent's concert. "What can I say? You got caught up in some bad business, and it's too bad you didn't realise it until it was too late. "

Overdrive walked in silence for a little while, in the opposite direction of 3-I. He narrowed his eyes. "You know, I've been around since the first Maverick War. I was a decent enough fighter, but I was a great scientist. I was a sharp cookie. You wouldn't know it by how stupid I was to latch myself to that maniac, Torrent. You were once something great too, weren't you, Iris? It's a shame you had to become as dumb as I am. You have a better excuse than I do, though ... Torrent shuffled you around like a chess piece. I, on the other hand, threw myself at his disgusting feet like a hungry dog."

As he talked, Overdrive paused in front of a ladder that led up to the surface world. He propped Iris beside it and started to ascend the slippery, mouldy rungs.

"And as I should've expected, he treated me like a dog. Fetch this, fetch that, hold still while I boot you across the room." Overdrive stopped short of the surface; a rusted manhole blocked his way. He stooped his head as low as he could, and pressed his shoulders and arms against the ninety-pound disc. It shuddered and gave. Overdrive slid it aside, lifted his sore neck, and peered. Crickets whirred and a fresh breeze caused him to recoil with unfamiliarity. He inched his head up once more. He was under a sidestreet, steeped in red and purple twilight. A gaggle of children played basketball in a driveway about twenty metres away.

Overdrive descended the ladder and felt relief coupled with a dull sense of alarm; he had undeniably grown more comfortable in the close, silent murk of the sewers. He gathered Iris' limp body and slung her over his shoulder before he started to climb again.

"I can decide later if I'm being stupid, merciful, or if I'm just doing this because I'm jealous and don't want you to slip through this mess so easily by dying."

Overdrive crested the lip of the manhole once more, and heaved himself onto the street. The pebbled concrete bit at his spindly knees and he wobbled a little as he righted himself. He headed directly for the children playing basketball.

The children continued to shout and jump at each other and one by one they faded into silence as they saw a battered Reploid ostrich(?) sway towards them with something slung over his shoulders. When they all dropped their voices, their ball bounced on the driveway once, twice, then rolled out onto the street like a tormented stray finally making its escape.

"Don't stop on account of me," Overdrive said flatly. He threw Iris on the curb where she rattled and clanked before settling on her back with her eyes staring lifelessly at the darkening sky.

The children pressed against each other and stared.

Overdrive shot his head forward, threw his arms into the air and screamed.

The children screamed a return chorus and scattered. At least one of them darted into the house belonging to the driveway.

"There you go, Iris," Overdrive cackled. "These people'll take good care of you. On the other hand, I'll lay equal odds that you're dead. When you get to hell, stop by and say hello sometime." The ostrich nudged the girl with his foot and rolled her over. "Yum. Pavement."

Someone in the house, an adult, pulled the heavy green curtains aside and peeked out. Overdrive turned around, presented his rear end, and took off.

* * *

"Status from the Medical Unit. Cain's stable."

The sudden voice buzzing in his ear made X jump. He gathered himself and opened his own communication. "Copy that. Is he conscious?"

"He is, but too zoned out to say much."

"Did he wish to see me?"

"All he's asked for is to see, uh, Ernie and Bert."

X bit down on the corners of his mouth. "Ten-four. I'll remain at my twenty. Contact me right away if there's any change in Cain's status."

"Copy."

"By the way, have there been any further sightings of--" X grimaced, "--the Maverick?"

"No sir, no one's seen Zero since he fled."

_Nice._ "Copy that. What's the priority on his status?"

"Undetermined. The Tribunal will be calling a meeting at twenty two hundred hours to discuss what's to be done, but since Zero was last seen fleeing deeper into the Grasslands, he's not considered Priority One."

_No, there are plenty of Priority Ones causing wanton destruction right now._ "Copy. X out."

The radio went dead. X held his elbow and rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger. A small garter snake, hunting in the evening cool, slithered across the stubbly, sandy grass and flicked its forked tongue at X's boot to determine friend versus foe. X stooped down and picked up the small reptile. He pat its head with his thumb. "This is no place for you, buddy. Not anymore."

Doors banged open and shut. Adults called out and children responded. A mud-spattered Labrador retriever bowed on its front legs and barked at X, then bounded away with a stupid grin on its face. Hastily-rolled bundles and objects were strewn all around the trampled dust.

There were only a few families present. Only one or two houses had been destroyed by these mysterious hastily-cobbled Mavericks. Most of the other people were just here as precaution against the seemingly aimless pattern the new Mavericks took. The Hunters were just spread a little thin, that's all. It was all very temporary.

X put the snake down and it flailed away from the noisy crowd. X let his arms hang limp and he drew a shuddering sigh. Things weren't pretty, no matter how he looked at the situation. Maverick Hunter Headquarters' refugee camps were occupied again because the Hunters were failing at their duty. Colossally.

_That's all there is to it._


	32. On The Doorstep

**Chapter 32: On The Doorstep**

The world was a frying pan, but X was freezing. The virus had knocked his cooling systems out of whack.

"Commander X? Come in, Commander…"

X raised his hand to cut the voice chattering in his ear, then decided just to phase it out best he could. He braced his body against its physical miseries and looked back at the boy in front of him. "So you were saying your little brother's stuck under Cabin 15?"

The little boy nodded. He was smeared from cap to toe with a rapidly-crusting mixture of sand and mud. He began to chew on his fingernails, and the grinding of dirt under his teeth was audible over the background noise of the refugee camp.

X shuddered and lifted the boy's fingers from his mouth. "Stop that. How'd your brother get stuck under the cabin in the first place?"

The boy shrugged. "He crawled. I dunno."

"Commander X? Cain requests an audience at your earliest convenience--"

_For God's sake._ X yanked off his helmet and handed it to another boy nearby. "Hold this for a second," he said, and resisted the urge to give chase when the boy immediately took off across the sandy lot with his prize.

The first boy took X's hand without any affection. His fingers were wet. "I'll show you," he said.

The walk through the camp was short, but lasted forever. Many of the displaced humans were braving the hot day outdoors, and they broke off their conversations to look at X with hostile eyes.

The humans were quiet now, but X knew the next time he came through, they'd be shouting. After that, who knew. But he hadn't denied the boy who'd stopped him and asked for help finding his brother. He never would.

"Here," the boy said. He pointed at "his" cabin, though every cabin in the camp was boxy, grey and weather-blasted. Each one was raised off the sandy ground by several inches in case of heavy rain, and the loose soil made it an easy squeeze into the underworld.

X dropped to his knees and peered into the darkness. "You all right under there?" he called.

A small childlike chirp was his answer. He'd forgotten his rescue probably wasn't old enough to talk in complete sentences. Negotiations having failed, X abandoned subtlety. He groped blindly under the cabin, caught a handful of clothing and pulled gently. The toddler accepted the game's end and came easily. He blinked owlishly in the sunlight and shook his head intensely, brushing at his hair with his fingers.

"Hey, he's covered with ants," one spectator announced.

X sighed. "Better take him to the showers. Even though he seems pretty amused by all this."

"Tickles!" the toddler giggled. He pinched one ant out of his hair and brought it to his eyes, fascinated by its death throes.

The baby's brother tucked his charge under his arm and departed without saying anything else to X.

A few of the spectators still hung around with their hands in their pockets. They had the colour and expression of ghosts, and X's heart ached to see it. He said, "Anyone know where my helmet walked off to?"

Nobody answered. X didn't hear another human voice acknowledge him until an hour later when he retrieved his helmet and received a call about someone who wanted to see him. X visited the Medical Unit and walked into the hospital cell belonging to Kincaid, the warrior boy he'd injured two days prior during the longest night in history.

Kincaid saw him and said, "X."

"Hello," X responded lamely.

Kincaid watched him for a second. His face was covered in bandages and what little flesh showed was puffy and discoloured. He was propped in an upright position to keep him breathing. One arm was crooked above his bedspread, locked in a splint. X realised he was the reason for the splint, the tubes, the white, bitter smell of medicine that was seeped into the fortified walls. Every bruise and cracked bone had his name on it. Not some other Hunter. Not even Zero. The last thought came with a flash of resentment and shame and X tucked it away quickly.

Kincaid continued. "You're an old Reploid. Fought like hell."

It all sounded like mush, but X wasn't interested in the human's threats. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

Kincaid's eyes glittered. "You're … _sorry?_"

"Yes."

The boy laughed, and the attempt ended with a small moan of pain. When he recovered he said, "We fought." His muffled voice still sounded amused.

"I'm not supposed to tell you I'm sorry because you're the enemy, but I am. I hurt you. I should have restrained myself. I--"

"We fought. It's the way."

X didn't know what the boy was getting at, and he felt sick to think that maybe he'd rattled his brains. "You don't understand--"

"You're … not listening," Kincaid said slowly. X could see it was a big job for him to form every word. He breathed in labourously before each attempt like a dragon taking in fuel for its fire, but what he had to say was important enough to keep trying. And X suddenly realised he was stomping over every attempt Kincaid was making to communicate with him.

"All right, Kincaid. This is about you, not me. What do you want to tell me?"

The boy's answer struggled in his gut and died as a mumble on his lips. He closed his eyes and sank back into his pillows.

"He's not dead," Genesis told X before he had a chance to panic. "Just very tired. He only woke up a few hours ago, after all. But he made it clear he wanted to see you."

X looked at the fox. "Did he say why?"

"No, he can't say much. Frankly I'm surprised he got as far as he did. See, this proves what most Reploids say is generally crap; that humans are resilient little buggers." Genesis looked around him quickly. "Now get out of here. I'm already in a lot of trouble with Cain. He's in Private Room C since the ward is nearly full and I don't want everyone jumping up and down like idiots if they see how bad off Monroe is."

"Morale is bad enough," X agreed glumly.

"Lifesaver's keeping him distracted, but if he shakes him off and finds out I've let you see a prisoner without his clearance, it'll be my ass on a platter."

"I'm supposed to talk to Cain anyway," X said.

"Great timing." Genesis poked X in the back. "Go out through the Emergency Exit and walk on back in through the main door so he doesn't get suspicious. And listen. I don't know much about these Warriors of Eden, but I know enough that Kincaid doesn't resent you. An honourable enemy is more useful than a wishy-washy friend."

* * *

Zero grudgingly expended extra energy to keep his exterior armour as cool as possible under the killing sun. He decided it wouldn't do to pan-fry Jody, who was being carried piggyback and enjoying himself too much for someone who was supposed to be weak with hunger and dehydration.

The first task was to find Eden. Battle damage came next.

"Am I getting heavy for you?" Jody asked his mount for the seventh time in four hours and the fiftieth time in two days.

"No," Zero responded shortly. "I'm a machine. I don't get tired. I have done my best in these years to learn something about human anatomy. Please take the time to learn something about Reploids."

The hilly terrain was not any cooler than the grasslands had been. Loose rocks rolled away under Zero's boots and threw heat in his face like a startled animal spraying musk. He _was_ exhausted. Reploids were capable of running for a significant amount of time on minimal amounts of Energen … if they were well maintained. If they weren't compensating for a damaged eye. If they weren't doubling as an air-conditioned limousine for a full-grown male human. He didn't want to ask, but…

"Jody?"

"What?"

"Does Eden have … you know … Energen?"

What for?"

Zero barked, "So I can have a centrepiece for my tea party. What kind of question is that? I need Energen to keep functioning!"

"Oh, _Energen!_" Jody drew out the word. "Sure. Eden has its own supply and plenty of recharging beds. The Mechadrakes need some on occasion. Are you having an emergency?"

"I'm not a five-year-old who needs the bathroom," Zero said, "so don't talk down to me. I just need to be in fighting shape when we get to Eden. We should make a plan to sneak in. Maybe I can recharge on the sly for a couple of hours, somehow--"

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Jody interrupted.

"I know you'd love for Asmodeus to kill me outright once you present me to him, but _my_ half of the plan involves me staying alive."

Jody coughed and gathered what was left of his dry voice. "He won't kill you. He'll be happy to see you."

"Let's rest. You're delirious."

There weren't many trees in the hills, and the terrain became rockier and more treacherous with each passing hour. They happened upon a rough clump of bushes that still offered a thin shade. Jody slipped from Zero's back and pressed himself into the dark margin. He looked up at the tough branches. "There's fruit."

The sun was almost directly overhead so there wasn't enough room for Zero in the shelter yet. He peered at the branches. "Huh. I guess there is."

Jody's eyes filled with longing. "I'd love some, but someone might know we came by if I start messing around."

"Well, we _did_ leave a much clearer spoor by abandoning the Ride Chaser, but I don't think anyone's coming after us --" Zero stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Jody said in a low voice. "Someone here?"

"No," Zero said slowly after some careful thought. "No, not at all. But you're right. We can't take chances. Leave the berries alone."

"Damn," Jody sighed. He curled up in a tight ball and Zero knew his belly was probably gnawing itself from the inside out; but to the boy's credit, he had complained very little about his hunger and thirst over the past two days and nights. He _was_ tough.

Besides, it could have been much worse. Zero looked at the holly bush again from the corner of his eye. The berries were as red as he was, and they were both loaded with poison.

Humans had done a decent job at decimating certain plant and animal species, but holly was still common enough in gardens at parks, not to mention some wild regions. Even the dumbest kid knew enough not to eat the plant's poisonous berries. Zero knew Jody wasn't stupid, so why would he grab blindly for his death?

The answer was pretty obvious. Inexperience. Eden evidently did not include overworld botany in his lifelong brainwashing sessions.

Zero looked thoughtfully at Jody. The boy said he had far more experience on the outside than most of Eden's warriors, and he was smart enough to tread carefully when he wasn't sure of the world's rules. It would cost him far more than normal folks to leap before he looked. But when the chips were down…

How many more of Eden's children would pay a hefty price for being careless?

How serious _was_ the organisation about the well-being of humans?

Jody narrowed his eyes. "What're you staring at?"

"Oh? Nothing. Just thinking of our plan. How far are we from Eden?"

"Listen. Don't make me talk to much." Jody closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. "You've been carrying me, so we've been going fast. If we keep up our pace, we'll reach the northwest tunnel by tonight. After that, a few hours'll do it."

Zero nodded. Carrying Jody had been his idea. Not only had it cut their travel time considerably, but it saved the boy a lot of wear and tear. Their ruse was going to be shady enough as it was. Jody, Zero's "capturer," had to look half-presentable to even have a chance of fooling Asmodeus.

"Don't look so worried," Jody told him. "We'll have a few people on our side by default."

"Like who?"

"My Mechadrake, for one thing." Jody drifted into some memory and smiled. "Atticus."

"Atticus?" Zero echoed. "And he'll help us?"

"Absolutely. Well, I hope so. He's a bit unstable."

"Oh, _good!_"

"It's not his fault. He's a Bronze. He--" Jody halted and doubled over abruptly as he was seized by a spasm of retching.

Zero ran forwards for a few steps, then hung back. "Uh, are you okay…?"

Jody opened his steel-coloured eyes and breathed heavily through his open mouth. He looked angry with himself. "I'm fine."

"I guess the trip is starting to take its toll."

Jody didn't answer.

"It's time we moved on, anyway." Zero kneeled near the boy. "Can you get up?"

"I don't need pity," Jody rasped as he pulled himself away from the bushes. For a second he readied himself to spit off to the side, then thought better of it. "Time to go home."

Zero helped him get to his feet, and they both left the bush behind as they trudged deeper into the mountains. Neither of them had any way of knowing Celeste and her father had camped out at the same spot nearly twenty years ago while fleeing from Eden.

* * *

Overdrive Ostrich looked at the abomination standing before him and said, "We're going to hell, aren't we?"

"Absolutely," Torrent said. And he smiled.

Overdrive had never been a big admirer of the human race, nor was he above tinkering with genetics--though he didn't happen to be very good at it. But even he had to fight hard against the scream that kicked up his long throat every time he dared to set eyes on what Torrent referred to as "The new and improved Paul."

The "soaking" was done. A chubby baby had gone into the tube now, heaped on the filthy brick and cobblestones, was something that might have passed for an adolescent alien creature: Hairless, bony, mostly toothless and pale enough to glow faintly in the dim depths of Torrent Leviathan's domain. His eyes were still green, which was an unusual colour for a human but was the one sliver of normality remaining on the boy's tortured hide. Of course, that wide-eyed baby stare was long gone; there was a sinister, undeniable intelligence now, and Paul cocked his head like an animal as he looked at his place of birth, as if he had forgotten how to control his eye-muscles--or simply lacked the ability. Overdrive thought about the human tendency for parents to gush over the colour of their children's eyes, and suddenly he felt a little woozy.

"There!" Torrent brushed off his big scaly paws and put them on his hips. "A grand creation, if I say so myself. And surprisingly quick, too. I knew I made a good move when I replaced--" the Mechadrake rambled off a string of biological jargon that was even lost on Overdrive. Paul kneeled down and scratched slowly at the ground with his long fingernails.

Torrent asked Overdrive a question and the big bird came back to life. "Huh?"

"I _said,_ do you think Phoenix will be pleased with what we've made?"

Overdrive couldn't take any more. He threw his hands into the air. _"What the hell is IT?"_

Torrent considered that for a second, then shrugged. "I call him 'Rover.'"

"Just a second ago you were calling him the 'new and improved Paul.'"

"He's Rover now."

"Can I go home now?" Overdrive's question came suddenly and forcefully, almost in a wail.

"Soon enough," Torrent said. "I'm tired of you." He frowned. "Soon as we can figure out how we're going to get you and Rover home without attracting the hordes. There's been Maverick attacks on the surface, did you know?"

"N-No. What--"

"Hybrids. Questing Beasts. Old corpses cobbled together to make … something functional. It's no wonder you Mavericks will never win a bloody war, if that's the best you can do. The Hunters are throwing a hissy fit, though."

"Hybrids." Overdrive crossed his arms over his chest and a memory shivered through him. "That was me! That was I. I was supposed to build an army out of whatever scraps I could, and I came here instead."

Torrent asked, "Were you out of your mind?"

* * *

Sunset came early in the foothills and the day cooled down quickly; it was enough of a reminder that autumn was starting to nip a little at summer's tail. Up on Zero's back Jody said, "Wait a minute."

Zero stopped.

"Let me down."

The Hunter let go and Jody slid to the ground. He dropped to his knees and felt at the ground in front of him with his open palm. Zero straightened what he could of his hair.

"We're close," Jody said, "but not close enough that I'm worried we'll be discovered--as long as we don't linger."

"So it's time to get the next bit over with."

"Yep."

Zero looked at Jody. The boy, the mountain and the rough vegetation were all drenched in orange. "The light's going fast," he said. "I can see in the dark. You can't."

"Then you didn't notice."

"Notice what?"

"When Eden attacked Maverick Hunter Headquarters, they attacked at night."

"Son of a bitch. I guess you're right." Zero put his arms to his side and he tensed a little. "If you're fine with it, then…"

"It's fine. I was born in the dark and raised in the dark." Jody smiled. "That's how I like it. So many parts of Eden are like that, you know. Just … dim. It's nice. It took a lot of time for Celeste to adjust her vision when she came to Eden."

Zero slowly drew his sabre and cut the air a little. A lime-green trail held in the twilight for a nanosecond. "She was a little girl born in the same manner as normal human beings. She wasn't bred in the corner of a bog like your ilk."

Jody already had his chain-scythe in hand. "Bred, regardless, to kill your kind."

Zero swallowed his hate. He breathed slowly for a few seconds and said, "We have to be careful here. We don't want to … kill each other."

"Of course not. That would screw up the plan."

"God forbid."

The sickle sliced a wide arc but Zero slipped away in time; he immediately held fast to the instincts that frothed and twisted at the end of a frayed leash. That had been a real attempt by Jody to take a chunk out of his left side.

"Watch it!" Zero barked. "I told you to be careful! You have to understand the way I am--I have trouble controlling myself."

"Oh, listen to Mister Grand Morals," Jody tried to say laughingly, but his voice cracked. "Didn't you give me some big lecture back at Maverick Hunter Headquarters about how I need to 'control myself?' Because I love Celeste?"

The word didn't match Jody's face or the weapon in his hands. Zero said, "You 'love' her the same way a breeder loves a prize pig."

Jody's scythe blade hit Zero's shoulder, cracking the already-damaged armour like a clamshell. His world wheeling with pain, Zero used the heartbeat of delay to try and cut through the silver chain with his sabre but it glanced off and slipped out of his numb hands. For one bizarre half-second longer he felt let down when the weapon rolled away mindlessly.

Then there was no time left to think. Jody didn't pull at the scythe chain but instead flew at the Hunter, holding it taut in his hands. Zero's neck burned for a second when Jody flung himself around and garroted him, but then Zero figured it was bloody well _his_ turn to do his part for the "plan." He reached behind him with his undamaged hand, seized the boy by the scalp, and ripped him off and away from his back. Jody panted in the dust for a split second and Zero automatically swung his boot into his ribs--remembering, at the very last moment, to soften the blow.

It was still enough--more than enough. Zero knew Jody was conditioned against pain, but his eyes still bulged, his mouth flew open in a breathless gasp. Zero felt a little remorse until he realised his kick, though it surely cracked a few ribs, was only a small physical misery. What he had said earlier had wounded the boy far worse.

He almost moved to help Jody, then rubbed his hand against his side instead and said, "Sit up."

Slowly, Jody obeyed. His breath caught and he worked hard to control his breathing. He trembled violently for a second, swallowed hard then seemed to be in control again. Zero was surprised to see a moderate amount of blood trickling rapidly down his temple, cutting a red path through the smeared blood-and-dust mixture drying there already.

"Got a trophy I see," Jody said. He managed a small, tight smile.

Zero looked at the handful of silver hair he'd ripped from Jody's head. He felt vaguely disgusted but said, "Want it back?"

"Keep it. Bastard."

Zero brushed off his hands, turned away and retrieved his sabre. "You're lucky I dropped this," he said loudly to disguise his confusion. "I told you to watch it. I could have killed you."

Jody said, "How does it feel?"

"My sabre? Feels fine."

"No, asshole. How does it _feel?_ What's it like to be a champion member of a 'superior race' who fights over a woman like any common dog?"

Zero sheathed his weapon. "Get over yourself. We agreed to do this."

"We agreed to damage each other in a fight to make it look like we scrapped before I 'captured' you," Jody rasped, "but you don't think anything of me."

"No, I don't. Why the hell should I?"

"You want to kill me. You want Celeste, and I'm in your way."

Zero slowly crouched down to Jody's level. "I want to _protect_ Celeste. From Eden. From you. So yes, you _are_ in my way."

Jody smiled again. "What could _you_ possibly do with her, Hunter? Hoard her?"

"What could _you_ possibly do with her, boy? Turn her into a mother fifty times over?"

Pain flashed across Jody's face again. Zero was suddenly interested. He flicked a pebble on the ground with his finger and said, "Well? I'm giving you a chance to convince me that you really love her. Ten seconds."

"You're stupid," Jody said slowly. "You have a brain like a computer, supposedly, but you're really stupid."

"That's five seconds gone."

"Don't you realise how easy it would have been?" Jody's voice was strong despite his dry throat and broken ribs. "Don't you see? If I wanted--only that--I would have done what I was sent to do."

"Oh?"

"I could have kidnapped her. I could have spirited her away to Eden, taken her as my wife whether she wanted it or not. I couldn't do it. I _didn't_ do it. Celeste's my friend. She doesn't remember it, but I do. I want--I want her to walk with me."

His last words bounced off the black teeth of the mountains. Zero shook a little inwardly at the force of the cry but he said, "Big deal."

"I don't give a damn if you approve or not. I'm going to rescue her and you're going to help me because we have the same goal."

"And after that?"

"She can choose who--what--she wants."

Zero rocked back a little on his heels and gathered his thoughts in the silence that followed. He didn't understand humans beyond the How To's he had learned as a Hunter. Jody was ridiculous. Love was even more ridiculous. And _he_ was the biggest buffoon of all for getting caught up in it all.

But for an instant Zero sympathised with the boy, almost connected with him. Giving Celeste the next generation would make him happy mostly because he believed it would make _Celeste_ happy. Why was that? Ego? Jody was surely driven by Eden's patriarchal take on fecundity despite claims that he'd reformed. But maybe it was a general human stupidity as well.

"Maybe you'd better think about what _she_ wants," Zero said.

"Maybe we'd better rest a little," Jody countered briskly. "Give our wounds a day to … age."

"Fine. Good."

Zero looked at the stars for a minute and reached into a shallow storage hollow above his left ankle. He slid out a small container and held it out to Jody.

Not surprisingly, Jody didn't take it. "What is it?"

"Water. Just a little. It gets recycled through my systems to keep me cool. Drink it."

"You want me to drink your runoff?"

"Take it or leave it."

He took it and sipped slowly, complaining about the flat, metallic taste. Then he said, "Why didn't you give me this sooner?"

"I didn't think you'd earned it."

"Prick." Jody's voice carried the smallest hint of amusement.

"I know what I am. Go to sleep."


	33. Four AM

**Chapter 33: Four AM**

Caillou was dreaming violently when Nytetrayn poked him in the shoulder, then in the neck. Eyes still closed, Caillou shot straight up, retrieved his weapon from under his pillow, and, in a vicious reversal, pressed it against Nyte's neck.

Nyte craned a cautious eye down at the blade tickling him; getting punctured by a circuit-stinger would not help along his plans. Moving carefully, he slapped the boy lightly on the side of the head.

Caillou grunted and slit his eyes open halfway. "Am I still sleeping?"

"What kind of question is that? You're awake."

"Danner--" Caillou withdrew the knife. "She went into the Hollow. Go get her."

Nyte looked at him sharply, then caught himself and softened his glance before Caillou's eyes could focus on his expression. "You're still dreaming. If you don't start talking sense, I'm going to dump water on you."

"Sorry," Caillou mumbled, rubbing his face. The Ouroboros band on his wrist shone dull brass in the warren's diffused light. "I'm awake now." He shifted and his blanket slid off his bare shoulders.

Nyte disguised a grin by picking at his tooth. "Sleeping naked?"

"Someone stole the boxers I usually use."

"You're pathetic."

"Since when do I care what you think," Caillou muttered as he shook off his warm blanket and pulled himself, shivering, into his daytime underclothes olive-green jumpsuit. "What's so important that you had to run in here and start slapping me around?"

Nyte said, "Zero arrived in Eden not two hours ago."

"Zero?" Caillou echoed. "Who's that?"

"Zero the Maverick Hunter, you omadhaun."

"Huh!" Caillou pulled up his zipper. "What's he doing _here?_"

"Jody brought him in."

"You mean--"

"Yes, the same Jody you remember," Nytetrayn said. "He was among the Hunters for a while, spying on them. He was supposed to be the one to bring your sister back here, but we already know that certain dragons had to do the job for him. Speaking of, did you talk to Celeste?"

"Yeah." Fully dressed, Caillou scowled and rubbed his chilled arms. "I don't think she trusts me."

"No surprise."

"So do you have a plan? My grandfath--Aiden doesn't like me and I doubt he likes _you,_ but he seems ready to do whatever it takes to--" Caillou paused abruptly. "You know what, I don't know _what_ he wants."

Nytetrayn fluttered his wings in a shrug. "He's lost his loyalty to Eden. He wants to get away and live on the lam with Kathleen, or else he wants to die well. Whichever comes first."

"That's grim."

"Humans aren't tough to figure out."

Caillou flopped on the one chair in his warren and laced his boots. "So what about you?"

Nytetrayn said, "Unlike humans, this situation _is_ pretty tough to figure out. The rumour going around is that Jody 'caught' Zero and hauled him all the way here."

Caillou sat up and snorted. "Is that a joke? He couldn't bring back Celeste but he rounded up an elite Hunter?"

"I don't know. I guess Jody's forgotten that Asmodeus is a lot of things, but he's not stupid. Celeste shows up in Eden, and another Hunter follows. Anyone can smell a scheme."

"Maybe Jody's got a plan. Or maybe he's just desperate. Like us."

"Like us," Nytetrayn repeated in a mumble as he scratched at a loose scale under his nostril. "This isn't so bad. Asmodeus' attention will be diverted. I'm still curious, though. I guess Jody grew fond of the outside world, and he decided not to come back. It happens. But Zero? Even if he's here to rescue Celeste, how did he get permission to launch a solo mission? The Hunters have their own problems on the surface."

"So I guess Celeste's not elite?" Caillou asked.

"She's very good, but she's also in a lot of trouble topside. She was set to be ejected from the Hunters, anyway. I doubt they'd use Zero to track her down. There's some variable here that's missing--"

"Nyte, why am I wearing this goddamn thing?"

"--but I think I know who we can talk to. Huh?" Nyte swung his head in Caillou's direction.

Caillou rubbed at the Ouroboros band on his wrist and wedged his fingernails in the hair-width of space between the metal circlet and his skin. "This thing. Why was it put on me?"

"So you don't go around knocking up the pretty girls of Eden," Nyte said in an annoyed voice. "I know for a fact Asmodeus explained that to you. Are you going daft now?"

Caillou smiled, but it wasn't an easy smile. "Took you a second to think of a lie."

"It's not a lie!" The acoustics in the warren echoed the words back with emphasis on Nyte's defiance, and Caillou laughed.

"I know you're half right, Nytetrayn. But I also know Asmodeus wouldn't spend the resources to bother with me unless there was a reason. I was banded because I'm a threat."

"Don't go giving yourself an ego, boy."

Caillou drummed his fingers on his table without any kind of pattern or rhythm. "Ison put me under to get this thing on me. Since then, the more I try to think about my past, the more I blank out. My childhood memories have always been misty around the edges, but I can piece them together easily enough, lucky me. Last year, though? I remember very little from last year. I feel like...someone sucked memories out of me and stored it somewhere."

Nyte said nothing, but he nodded carefully.

"I forget more every day. But when I dream, I feel powerful. I feel--" Caillou stopped, ran his fingers through his black hair and clenched a handful at the back of his neck. "Do you know Danner? Meria Danner in the Diamondback Unit?"

"Hmm," Nytetrayn grunted, "I think so. Good looking girl. You have your eye on her?"

Caillou shook his head. "I don't…I don't really feel anything for girls."

Nytetrayn tucked his fingers under his chin and looked thoughtful.

Caillou smiled wryly. "Predictable, but I don't feel anything for guys, either. Or anyone, really."

"Well then, why bring up Danner?"

"Because my dreams are different. Before you woke me up, I dreamed I was by the Hollow, and Danner was nearby. I was burning up--I wanted to run her down." Caillou pantomimed grabbing someone. "But it was more than that. She'd always ignored me, like everyone else. I wanted to give her something to be scared of. Do something she'd never forget. Do something Eden would never forget."

Nytetrayn shook his head and said, "Tsk."

Caillou looked ashamed. "I would never do anything like that. It doesn't matter how people treat me here; it'd be a weak excuse where there is none. Even in my dreams, nothing actually happens because…"

"Because your Captain threw your head into a wall."

"What? No, nothing happens because I wake up."

Nyte paused. "Dreams are just dreams," he said. "Don't over-think them."

"But the band--"

"You know what it's for."

Caillou looked at long at the Mechadrake and started drumming his fingers again.

Nyte gave in a little. "I won't deny that the two—the band and the dreams—are related. But I'm done talking about you for now. I have to find a way to get a hold of Zero and we don't have much time to putz around."

"Will you need my help?"

"Not unless I want to remind Asmodeus that I'm up to no good. He's mildly pleased with me for bringing back Celeste. He might even trust me again. Toting you around would nullify that in a hurry."

Caillou stood up again. "Then what do you want me to do?"

Nytetrayn said, "Study up on pain management."

* * *

Entering Eden required a long slither through some cubbyholes that were a little rocky for Jody's liking. Every push and slide was a new adventure in his struggle not to vomit as his broken rib cage crunched and shifted. He occasionally let slip the whimper of a beaten dog. He couldn't help it.

Behind him, Zero flashed a high-powered battery flashlight around the rough terrain and offered little sympathy. "Place is filthy and dark. Not surprising considering the types who live here."

"We're not in Eden yet," Jody hissed slowly. "Keep it down."

"You said this was one of Eden's main entrances?"

"Yes. Shut up."

"It's pretty small," Zero observed. "What happens when you need to dispatch your soldiers? They'll only be able to come out in a trickle."

Jody shut his eyes as the close walls brushed against his wounds again. "The Hollow is used for dispatch, too. It's a pretty big area. Still, Eden is about striking first and fast, then hiding away. We prefer camouflage to might."

Zero smiled and said nothing.

"Turn off the flashlight," Jody said. "We're getting close."

"It's pretty dark in here. You sure you can see?"

"I can see, I can see."

Zero switched the device off and noted with surprise that the walls around him were faintly luminous. It was enough light for a reploid to see around him—as well as a human with heightened vision. Zero was also sure of a soft thrumming under his feet that subsequently crawled up the wall, over his head and back down again. A shudder ran up his spine.

Unfortunately, Jody saw him. "You're uneasy," he said, "because you're a reploid. I don't know what kind of rock lines this cavern, but the original builders of Eden noted that beings made of circuits and wires tend to be thrown off their guard when they pass through here. Our dragons do all right, though, being part organic. Here comes a perfect example."

Zero lifted his head and his heart stalled. True to Jody's word, if the gigantic Mechadrake who suddenly filled the cavern in front of them meant them meant any harm, he had noticed it too late to prepare himself.

But the 'drake didn't pounce, which was very well because it was a monster the likes of which Zero had never seen. It lay on its stomach with its arms tucked under it; there was no room for the creature to draw himself to his full height. Each breath wheezed out of its lungs like a blacksmith's billow and the sound rattled against the haunting walls.

"Don't make any sudden moves," Jody murmured, "and it'll be fine."

"What--" Zero rubbed the back of his hand across his dry lips. "What colour is it? I can't tell in this light."

"He. He's a bronze."

"I've never met one."

"Atticus is the only one of his kind because he's half-loco. Let's pray he's having one of his good days."

Suddenly Zero wanted to be above ground very badly, fighting some nice, normal Mavericks.

The Mechadrake, Atticus, peered at them from up the cavern, every bit a storybook dragon protecting some secret horde. He was a terribly ugly critter, all tusks, thick masses of bone jutting from his skull and dull scales. He stretched one paw in front of him like a cat deciding slowly whether or not to chase a mouse it had sighted. Each of his claws was as long as one of Zero's fingers and jaundice-yellow. The Maverick Hunter was reminded of the disfigured Mechadrakes that had invaded Headquarters just days prior.

Atticus slowly unfurled his second paw in front of him and started to shift upwards; his shoulder muscles rolled and scraped at the rock. He'd obviously decided that the vermin before him was worth inspecting. Zero reached for his weapon.

"Watch this," Jody said smugly. He raised his voice a little and said sharply, "Atticus."

"I had a feeling it was you, sir." The words rolled down the cavern in a beautiful baritone. "I can't see you very well, but your scent hasn't changed."

Zero looked all around him for the source of the rich voice before he realised it had come from the deformed Mechadrake. He was stunned. It was like hearing birdsong pour from the beak of a duck.

Jody continued to talk to Atticus. "I'm going to make a prediction. You say I smell like my old self, but I bet Asmodeus is going to go on about how I stink of corruption, etcetera, etcetera."

"I have no doubt of that, sir. Asmodeus is a titch predictable." Atticus paused. "I missed you. You've been gone a very long time."

Jody approached the mechanical dragon, rubbed him between the eyes with his palm and embraced him around the snout. Atticus gently tossed his head like a happy dog wrestling with its master. Zero leaned against the wall weakly.

"I didn't bring back Celeste," Jody informed Atticus.

"I know. She's here."

"Is she okay?"

Zero perked his ears.

"She's alive." Atticus' tone wasn't one of concern.

Jody exhaled. "Well, that's something."

"You're wounded, sir."

"It's nothing."

"I'd be happy to say the same," Atticus rumbled, "but your injuries smell like the abomination over there. Why?"

Zero tensed again. "'Abomination?' _You're_ the one who looks like a year-old grilled cheese sandwich."

Jody turned on his heel and indicated for Zero to shut up with a frantic slashing motion.

Atticus' voice became harder, more dangerous. "What are you planning, sir? What do you expect my role to be?"

The light was bad, but Zero was certain he saw the silver-haired boy close his eyes and mouth some words to himself. "Atticus." Jody expelled the name in one wide breath. "How did Asmodeus treat you when I was gone?"

"He chained me," the Mechadrake said simply.

Now there was no mistaking the relief on Jody's face. "We—Zero and I—are going to deliver Celeste from Eden," he said just as simply.

"Let's hear more about it," Atticus returned, "and keep your voice down. We're close to home."

"I've 'captured' Zero, you see. That's when I got injured. I'm going to deliver him. Asmodeus will forgive me for being seduced by the outside and neglecting to capture Celeste."

"Hmmm," Atticus rumbled and smiled. "You hope."

"I hope very much, but I know it's not going to be so easy."

"I can escort you back into Eden and protect you best I possibly can, but don't expect miracles, sir. They're not going to happen."

"It's Providence that you were on guard duty here. Your support is all I want, Atticus."

"You have it." the bronze Mechadrake pointed a dirty claw at Zero. "You. Come here."

"I'm not sure I want to do that," Zero said shortly.

"We're about to descend into a hellhole. Do what I say and you might survive a day in the company of the Devil."

Again with the Mechadrake drama. Zero nudged past Jody and stood in front of Atticus' bloated bronze face. Every nerve in his body was high-strung, tuned to grab for his sabre if needed.

To Zero's surprise, the Mechadrake said to his boy, "Jody, stand away. I need words with this one."

To Zero's further surprise, Jody hung back.

Atticus reached up one paw and rested it on Zero's wounded shoulder. It was a companionable gesture, but the Mechadrake also let his full weight rest on the injury, and it wasn't an easy feeling.

"I know you. You're called Zero up above, yes?"

Zero narrowed his eyes. "Zero, Captain of the Maverick Hunters' Special Unit 0."

"Somehow I don't think that's the case anymore."

Zero started to protest, but his words slid away and died. He was deep underground, surrounded by some pulsating mineral that weakened and confused him. He was about to enter a pit full of zombies who'd been bred for years to hunt and kill his kind, like ferrets are trained to flush rabbits. If there was ever a time he was friendless and completely alone, this was it.

It was irrelevant. He had to survive; there was never any other option, ever. He had to remain as fierce as he'd ever been.

But he couldn't afford to be brash or stupid.

Zero said, "I'm prepared to be who I need to be here in Eden."

"That is the smart answer, Captain Zero. Give over your weapon."

"I'm not about to."

"You're a prisoner," Atticus said calmly. "Prisoners don't tend to remain armed."

"Tell me something, Atticus. How stupid is Asmodeus?"

"Not very."

"Which is why he'll never believe Jody managed to take me prisoner. I want to talk to Asmodeus, but I'll do it on my own terms: armed."

Atticus surrendered with a casual brush of his paw. "Fine. I can understand why Asmodeus might honour that. You're terribly outnumbered if you try any tricks, anyhow. I plan to stick by you as long as possible."

"Don't trust me, eh?"

"I just told you that you're going to be outnumbered, Hunter. You are the Champion of nothing in Eden. I, however, am very curious to see who will claim this girl."

"Girl?"

"Celeste."

"She's a Hunter," Zero said flatly. "One of us. We need her."

Atticus didn't even acknowledge his weak defiance. "Jody took care of her when they were children," he said. "When Asmodeus needed someone to go above and fetch her, he didn't hesitate. I have my 'spells,' as they say, but I can see things when the clouds clear, Zero. Jody thought he could overpower her, command her. It didn't work out that way, did it? Otherwise he would've been home a lot sooner."

"Jody's quirks are none of my responsibility."

"No they're not," Atticus conceded. "Still, he reeks of aggression."

"It's because I'm a reploid. He doesn't like my kind, and I'm guessing you don't either, you metallic hypocrite."

"No, he hates you because you're both lusting after the same girl. It's the human way."

Zero was so impressed by Atticus' blunt declaration that it took him several seconds to summon a retort. "Eden has a lot to learn about how the real world works."

Atticus' smile was razor sharp. "I think maybe you'll be the one to teach us. It should be fun. Now, I have a small favour to ask you."

"What?"

"Few people in Eden, Asmodeus included, know that I can talk. It won't hurt our chances for survival if they go on thinking that."

* * *

Even though X was positively ancient as far as the Reploid race was concerned, he still discovered new things about himself every day. His most recent personal discovery wafted over him while he looked down at Monroe Cain, very still, silent and pale in his hospital bed: X couldn't stand the sight of any injured human, no matter how much he liked or disliked that particular person.

Monroe acknowledged X suddenly by saying, "Tell you what."

X jumped. "W-what sir?"

"Tell you what. I'm going to disband the Hunters and start breeding bloodhounds. I bet a pack of ugly dogs wouldn't have lost Iris' trail."

X felt hurt, but he thought Cain expected a smile, so he tried.

"Oh, you think it's funny?" Cain said fiercely. He tried to raise himself off the bed, but fell back with a quick hiss of pain. He sighed in defeat. "How could you lose sight of a crazy Reploid with a love for florescent colours?"

The private room was dim, but X was alarmed at how defeated Cain looked. The boy had doubtlessly expected an easy time of things, having inherited the organisation during peace time. Instead, one problem had stacked on top of another and now the situation was as bad as any Maverick War X had ever fought. Cain's face was etched with lines that hadn't been present when he first addressed the Hunters at the start of spring. He'd lost weight, not something he could afford. He looked...dusty. Neglected. Defeated.

"We'll find Iris, sir. And Paul. I promise you."

Cain rolled his eyes up at him. "And what if I tell you that we don't have the resources to keep searching for Iris and the baby?"

X squared his shoulders. "Then I'd have to keep looking in whatever way I could."

"Oh, aren't you noble. I want to see Iris dragged back here as badly as anyone, but I don't think you need to be reminded that the Refugee Camps are filling up again."

"I know--"

"Rapidly."

"We have a prisoner," X said. "He's among the humans who tried to invade Headquarters. His name's Kincaid."

"Is he the one you smashed up?"

X squeezed his hands behind his back. "Yes. I think he'll answer any questions I ask."

"Resources, X. Resources. Do you think Kincaid has anything to do with the immediate Maverick threat?"

"No," X admitted. "Kincaid is part of something...different. Something that wants us, specifically. Not the city."

"Then the Mavericks remain our first priority."

"I agree. But I think Iris had something to do with them."

"I don't know what to tell you," Monroe said flatly. "We need to mobilise our Hunters to take back the city." To X's great surprise he added, "This was a bad time to lose Zero."

"What--" X paused to collect his words. "What will happen to him? If we find him?"

"Well, I'm not dead," Cain said sourly, "so he might live. Can't make any promises, though. Why?"

"I'm just wondering."

Cain eyed him suspiciously. "You hiding something? You have the badge for Unit 0. That's mighty interesting."

"He was my best friend," X said sharply, "and he asked me to look after his most prized item, so I granted him that favour. I don't know what his motivations were, but his betrayal hurts me worse than anything I've ever felt. But I know my duty to humanity and I don't appreciate any suggestions that I don't." X bit his tongue, but it wasn't in time. He braced himself for the explosion that was no doubt coming.

Instead, Cain continued to look at him. He smiled slowly and said, "I didn't think Reploids could genuinely feel anything beyond protocol or duty."

X felt his hackles rise again. "With all due respect, Sir, you're missing the basic point of our species. We can think for ourselves. It's what separates us from drone robots."

"And a lack of tails separates humans from monkeys. Doesn't guarantee we'll behave ourselves." Cain winced as he tried to shift on his bed. "Damn it, I think that asshole friend of yours broke my back. Genesis said that wasn't the case, but it sure feels like it. I'm lucky he didn't hit my spine directly; it would've been over for my legs."

X took a deep breath, steadied himself and said, "Sir, why don't you like Reploids?"

"God, is it really not obvious?" Cain said in a neutral voice.

"They—we--consumed your father's life."

"And I was just attacked by humanity's greatest defender."

X quaked. "There's that."

"But your first guess is a good one. My dad dug you out of some sandbox and the two of you became best buddies. How often did you see me? How often did you _hear_ about me?"

X had to admit that he had been surprised when he first learned Cain senior had a son—and that had been just a few months ago.

"I understand," X mumbled. "How can you like us when we stole away your father?"

"Christ almighty, who cares about that? Grudges are for three-year-olds."

It was a lie. It was a big lie, but X didn't pursue it.

"I don't understand Reploids," Monroe continued. "I thought I'd be holding down the fort until my father recovered; I didn't think I'd be choreographing a war with soulless tin soldiers."

X frowned. "'Soulless?'"

"Reploids experience emotions, or something close enough to them," Monroe said. "I never admitted it to myself, but I can see it clearly. You all laugh. You get angry, you can choose to obey my orders or tell me what to do with myself. You all can make friends and fall in love. You have the strength of elephants, but you have the basic flaws that humanity has yet to overcome. Basically, my father built a race of powerful beings that can lapse into a turbo-powered sulk when a pretty girl rejects them. Right?"

X said, "Yes, sir."

"What a fucking stupid idea. Dr Light must've been senile."

"Please don't call my creator senile."

"Oh, what the hell. None of this matters, anyway." Monroe shifted again and groaned. "Get out there and kill some of your own kind. They're tearing up the city while we sit here and discuss reploid sociology."

X saluted and turned around. He considered for a moment, looked over his shoulder and asked Monroe, "Where _is_ your father?"

"I don't bloody well know," Monroe returned. "Somewhere where he doesn't have to deal with this garbage."

"Maybe...he'd be better suited for handling the situation."

"You don't think I've considered that a thousand times? Anyway, I'm here and I'm not dead. I have to keep going."


	34. The Suburbs

**OBNOXIOUS AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Hello, animal friends! It's been a while, hasn't it? That's why I've written up a summary of everything that's taken place in the story 'til now.

Since this site doesn't allow links, you'll have to substitute the words "Dot" with, er, real dots.

woekitten (dot) livejournal (dot) com/676716 (dot) html

Read it, be enlightened, and, uh, be excellent to each other I suppose.

**Chapter 34: The Suburbs**

Cass the badger caused a small earthquake with every step he took. Running alongside his friend, X turned an eye down to the spidery cracks that blossomed on the sidewalks under Cass' weight. Another bill for MHHQ, he thought.

"How do you feel?" X asked his partner.

"Great!" Cass bellowed over the roar of traffic and the rattle of the small Hunter squadron following them. "I think that stupid virus was finally flushed out of my system." Working with a triggered thought he asked X, "How do _you _feel?"

"Like I've been kicked by a thousand horses on a single command. But I'll manage."

Cass frowned. "I hear you. That sickness is nasty. Those kids that brought it with them-"

"The Inheritors of Eden?"

"Is that what they call themselves? Jesus. I don't like it. Are there really more of them out there? The Flu can't kill us, but it can knock us flat so someone else can do the job. It's bad news."

X said, "I interrogated one of the kids. If what he said is true, there are a number of Inheritors. A nest."

"What, like wasps? What do they want?"

"It's-" X slowed and held up a hand to gradually stop his unit's canter. Some quick signals dispersed certain Hunters to their pre-determined traffic-routing tasks. "-us," he continued. "Reploids in general. They want us gone."

Two nondescript Hunters looked up at Cass for their orders. Cass rubbed the back of his stout neck with one paw and vaguely directed the Hunters to their tasks with his other. "Want us gone? Why?"

X glanced at the badger and then took a sweeping look at the old downtown neighbourhood they occupied. A block of low-lying brick buildings that had once boasted nearly a century of good repair was now a smoking, jagged red row of dragon's teeth. Shaken humans, most dazed, some weaving, were being ushered onto city buses that had been pulled aside for the task of transporting the displaced residents to the refugee camps. One full bus was already slinking away, crunching and bobbing over chunks of debris. A large dog barked desperately and tried to lunge after the bus, but it was tied fast by its leash to an undamaged tree.

Cass understood. "We didn't do this," he growled. "We're not Mavericks, and we're sure as hell not any kind of creepy bunch of hybrids that attacks and vanishes into the night. We're here to help. Anyway, this wasn't too bad. There were no casualties."

"The Inheritors figure there'd be no need for Hunters if we were all deactivated," X said distractedly. A child had started to cry at the sight of the abandoned dog and her mother bent down and murmured some kind of false assurance into her hair.

Cass drew himself up to his full height and hit his basketball-sized fists together. "I'd like to see them try to get rid of us."

"Cass," X said warningly.

"It's not Maverick talk. I didn't ask to be created, but here I am. I won't apologise for my existence."

X sighed. "I don't have a solution. It's not like humans had a hard time thinking of ways to hurt themselves before we were developed. We have to protect our existence, but how do we do that against a pack of fanatical humans?"

Cass pounded his fists again. "First, we break some legs. Hard to coordinate when your limbs are a twisted wreck."

"Cass!"

"I'm joking, I'm joking. Jeez."

* * *

"Think we'll get to keep her?"

"What, keep a rusty old Reploid? Don't be retarded."

The two suburban brothers stood side-by-side and silently considered the female Reploid trembling under their dining room table. Only the peaked toe of one boot peeped out from under the hanging edge of beige tablecloth; they knew she was shaking because she was obviously propped against one of the legs, and the structure shook with her. The adults in the room spoke to one another in low but excited voices.

Mom threw a warning over to her sons from the living room: "Don't get too close, boys."

The younger brother flinched under a memory, and sucked on a slow-bleeding gash across his palm. His big brother poked him and sang, "That rusty thing made you bleed. You're gonna need a shot."

"I don't care. I had to touch her and see if she was hot or cold."

The older brother frowned at his sibling's lack of panic and crazy resolve. He was never any fun to tease. The older brother—Samuel—blushed and scowled when his brain replayed his initial screaming dash away from the Reploid who was now under the table, and the big bird-looking Reploid who'd deposited her there. Through some mean trick of his eyes and memory, he watched himself run into the house, his arms wheeling and his mouth open in a wail fit only for a girl. And every time he shyly re-checked the memory, he looked thinner, weaker, and more terrified.

Matthew had been the one to calmly fetch his parents. Matthew had been the first to approach the female reploid with curiosity instead of fear or revulsion. Matthew-

-Was still licking at his wound. Samuel glanced at his parents; they were still embroiled in a conversation and as useless as ever. He sighed and took his little brother by the hand. "Don't do that. It's dirty. Come on to the bathroom."

Matthew bathed and bandaged his hand with Samuel's help, then sat on the toilet lid and watched his older brother wash his face and apply a medicated cream. "Why do you keep washing your face, Sam?"

"Oil," Samuel sputtered after splashing a double-handful of water on his face. He slicked back his hair with his damp palms. "Oil, oil, oil. Zits. Girls. You'll understand soon enough."

"The Reploid in the living room is a girl, isn't she?"

"I guess."

"But why? Robots don't get babies like we do."

Sam rubbed his face in the bathroom's rough handtowel for a long time to hide his blush. "Man, where do you pick up these things? You're eight years old."

Matthew's face fell like a scolded puppy's. "But in science class-"

"Oh, right, you and your advanced science class," Sam sighed. "Never mind."

Matt slid off the toilet seat and rubbed his bandaged hand. "Sam, I want to go out and talk to that robot again."

"Why? You wanna lose your whole hand?"

"I want to ask her why she's here."

Sam thought back to the girl's haphazard delivery. "She was dropped here, remember? Fine, let's talk to her. But let me go up to her first this time."

* * *

Iris shook under her particle board canopy and picked over the jumbled memories of her past lives. There had been her induction to the Hunters, followed immediately by the Erasure Incident on Laguz island. Then there had been the Repliforce incident—oh yes, the significance of her life was always measured in "incidents"—and for a time, there loomed the promise of a peaceful life with Zero. He made some vague mention of a promise foisted upon him by the girl—Celeste—during the first Maverick War, but Iris had been able to smell his doubt over the proposed union. No, it had been more than doubt; there had been fear. Fear over the girl, fear about himself.

Then Colonel had died, she had lost her mind, and the peaceful, violet hum of death kept her company for an immeasurable time. An eternity later, she was pulled from the void to walk the world again, maybe to amuse whichever lesser deity watched out for godforsaken Reploids.

It was Zero who'd put her down after her inner works had been poisoned by her brother's raw power. Would Zero be called to deal with her again, to shoot pityingly her like a sick animal for kidnapping Paul? For wounding the little suburban boy who'd only tried to touch her? She could hardly argue against the idea. After all, she'd described herself long ago: A biting dog who'd bite again. When the description had first flashed into her brain, she'd thought for certain it'd been meant for the human female rasping for breath in front of her in MHHQ's darkened infirmary, bruised and broken, her eyes throwing blue sparks. But no. She had been describing herself.

Life, Iris thought, had never made sense. Why should it start now?

"Hey," someone said.

Iris jumped. Another boy, this one older than the one she'd hurt, had lifted the tablecloth and was peering at her. His brown face was round and soft, but puberty was starting to chisel at his jaw and cheekbones. His shiny skin was flecked with acne. Iris cringed and wished the boy would drop the veil and cut her off from the outside world again.

"I won't hurt you," the boy said, "even though you hurt my brother." Iris felt despair pull at her face, which seemed to surprise her company. "Hey, he's okay. It's all right."

"When are the Hunters coming?" Iris managed to whisper. The smell and dampness of Torrent Leviathan's sewers were still in her voice. "Are they sending Zero?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"How can you not know? How can you not know about the things I've done?"

"What, you're like a fugitive?" The boy's dark eyes lit up. "Cool!"

"Fugitive," Iris parroted in a mumble. "That's a good way to describe me. And now I've been caught. I just wanted—I just wanted—Paul."

"Paul?"

"He wasn't mine. I had no right to him. I want the Hunters to end this as quickly as possible."

The boy cocked his head. "'End this?' They'd kill you? The Hunters?"

"I think so," Iris choked. "I stole a human baby. But I never hurt him! I would never—!"

"So you took a kid? But you never hurt it?"

"No!"

"Swear to God?"

"I don't know how to respond to that."

The boy looked at her intently. "You might be okay," he said slowly. "My parents aren't good for much, but they believe in—well, I'll talk to them. Wait here."

Iris pictured herself standing up suddenly and tipping over the table with a spurt of ferocious energy. She saw herself break down the door, the window, anything that would let her throw herself into the night and far from the suburbs. Instead, she lowered her chin into her crossed arms and waited.

* * *

Celeste's gait was unsteady. Hawkmoon's numbing poison was taking its time flushing from her system, and with her sprained right hand still strung up in a sling, her arms weren't much good for balance. Nevertheless, she mustered up her confidence when she stepped into Eden's middle-level dorms and glanced at the double rows of iron beds as casually as her pattering heart would let her. She struck a plea bargain with her brain and promised it alcohol, nicotine, any impossibility, as long as it held her steady just long enough for her lounging dorm mates to lose interest in her and look away. Their interest didn't wane quickly.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," said the dark-haired woman who'd delivered Celeste from Dr Ison's domain to the dorm. "I'm Meria Danner, by the way," she said, stepping back from the door. She hesitated. "You're Caillou McTreggor's sister? I don't see a resemblance."

"I've been told we don't look alike," Celeste mumbled without energy.

"I didn't necessarily mean a physical resemblance," Danner countered, her voice suddenly cool. "Either way, consider yourself lucky." She left Celeste alone.

Celeste took a quick count of about two dozen low-slung beds in the dorm. Twelve were pushed up against each side of the narrow room, but only four women were present. Two girls who looked to be about her age stopped conversing with each other to stare. A smaller, younger girl looked at her brightly, like any little girl hoping to make a friend out of a new next-door neighbour. And a very short wide-hipped middle-aged woman situated near the back of the dorm stood between the two rows of beds and scooped and stabbed a bo with perfect control, retracting the weapon over and over just before it seemed like violent contact with a bedframe was inevitable. When some inner critic approved her routine and released her, she propped the bo on its end and silently gestured for Celeste to approach.

Celeste walked towards her without hesitating—where else could she go, and what use would it be to let the fear shuddering her core surface to her face?—and the woman said "Come on, girl, nobody will eat you."

The woman's hair was dark blonde and came down her small ears. Her eyes were brown. Celeste thought about her mother with a surprising stab of homesickness.

"You're tired, and I'm sure this is all new and strange. Take the bed beside mine. Its former owner is gone. She broke."

The woman didn't elaborate. She lay her bo down on the bed closest to the wall, and Celeste slowly sat down on her new mattress. She was separated the woman by a gap that was about two arm's widths across. The bed was dressed with hard white sheets, but no blankets or pillows.

"We'll get you a blanket later," the woman said. "I'm Adina. I was told you'd be coming to me today, Celeste. I'm glad to have you."

Her manner was crisp but warm, like a windy, sunny day in autumn. Celeste wanted to retaliate, fight, but she immediately knew Adina would be the wrong woman to rebel against. Still, she said, "I don't know how I feel about being kidnapped and brought here."

"I'm sure you'll form an opinion soon enough," Adina said. "Likely, you've already started on one. I'm sure you remember this place. This very dorm, in fact."

"I don't know," Celeste said slowly, jarred by Adina's analysis. She had no solid visual memory of Eden, but the memory of its scents began scalding her sinuses as soon as she'd woken up in Ison's care. The dorm was well-lit, but its smell was black, lonely. Something inside her knew it'd always been that way since the beginning of her own life-since the start of Eden's own inhuman history.

"Are you hungry, Celeste?"

"A little, maybe." She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything substantial. Surges of adrenaline had washed back her appetite, but her hunger pangs were starting to rise above them.

"My son will be here soon. He's come back back from a long mission that he botched; he'll want to see me. I hope," Adina added dryly. "I'll have him fetch you something. In the meantime, rest. You'll be under my wing in two quarters."

"Two quarters?"

"A half-day, I suppose. You'll get a sense for our time soon enough." Adina sat down next to Celeste. "Asmodeus obviously expects some trouble out of you, or he wouldn't have saddled me with you. Whatever you start, Celeste, I will end. So it's better not to start."

Celeste looked at the dorm's open door. Adina took hold of her shoulder and squeezed it a little. "Be calm. You'll be fine. Now rest."

* * *

"For the last time, hold still," Dr Ison told Jody irritably. "If you pull out your IV feeds with all that fidgeting you're doing, I'm going to jam them in your ears and dump horse tranquilisers in there."

Dr Ison's voice collared Jody into automatic obedience, as it had since he was a boy squirming against his first shots. But as his cells re-hydrated drip by drip, and as the drugs he'd been given smudged the pain in his broken ribs until it no longer belonged to him, he felt his strength grow and with it, restlessness. Celeste had been in the ward recently; Ison had told him so, and besides, he was sure he could feel and smell the thin ribbon of scent her presence had left behind.

At least, he was almost sure the spoor was fresh. His old memories of Celeste were surging from storage and spilling over every crevice in his brain; he couldn't think of anything but the girl. He remembered comforting her when she first arrived in Eden, separated from her father and half-wasted by disease. The past mingled with Jody's expectations for the future, and pooled into a dark lust. He would go to the girl when he was done here, and he'd make sure that she'd be grateful for his company. He imagined her eyes, dark with submission against her flushed skin as she surrendered to him, body, mind, and soul.

"All right, I've had it with your fidgeting," Ison broke in. "If you want to get out of here, I won't keep you. Get dressed."

Ison pulled out Jody's IV feeds, not gently, and Jody pulled on the issue jumpsuit Ison had provided for him. Except for his black leather vest, he hadn't worn clothes from Eden in months, not since ascending to dupe Maverick Hunter Headquarters. But he didn't pause for ceremony before getting dressed, and in fact he moved quickly enough that his breaks and bruises muttered complaints around the medication in his veins.

Jody limped out of the ward-he couldn't help the limp-elated, despite the pain, the difficulty breathing, the fist-sized bandage on his head reminded him he'd been scalped by Zero in the wilds of the Grasslands. He was home. He was about to claim his prize, the girl he'd put a claim on since childhood. And he'd received high praise from Asmodeus for delivering the finest warrior in the Maverick Hunters' stables. He was a Mechanical Hound. He was amongst Eden's most beloved, most valuable fighters.

"That boy's a fool."

* * *

Asmodeus swayed his head. Zero watched him silently and supposed it was the ratty Mechadrake's way of expressing disapproval.

"Such a shame," Asmodeus continued in a low voice. "His father was a gentleman's warrior. Oh, the stories I could tell you, Zero. But I don't think you're interested."

"No," Zero almost said, but decided to remain silent. He emwas/em interested in learning whatever he could about Eden, its inhabitants, its customs. The Maverick Hunter had only seen the hidden tendrils of Eden that Jody had shown him, and after that, whatever glances he could snatch from his position beside Asmodeus. Jody and Atticus had delivered him to the Mechadrake, and they'd garnered a murmuring, awestruck chain of admirers on the trip. Jody had fed on the attention silently and heartily as he descended further underground, like a bizarre plant that gained strength and colour as it got further from the sun. And Zero's heart sank as he got closer and closer to Asmodeus. Not because the old dragon was senile and unpredictable; Zero knew all about unpredictability. But because he doubted Jody was going to step away from his pantheon of new fans.

And yet, Zero noted, Asmodeus didn't admire Jody's achievement. Not inwardly, anyway. That complicated things further; the plan hadn't involved Asmodeus playing Jody for an idiot.

"Are you hungry, Zero? Get used to it."

What had Zero expected when Jody first led him underground? Some sort of worm-strewn dugout, maybe. Not the glimmering cylinder of steel and chrome that he stood in, with a river below and the surface above. Not hundreds of humans ascending and descending the walls via the coiled catwalks, all of them ready to battle to the death at a command.

Was Celeste here? Was she one of these zombies?

"Welcome to Eden, Zero."

"Shove it up your ass."

Asmodeus threw back his head and laughed.


	35. When You've Got No Place to Go

**There's No Place Like Home When You've Got Nowhere to Go**

Zero was slowly starving to death.

A veteran of battle nearly since the day he'd been rediscovered and reborn in the dim depths of an abandoned subway tunnel, Zero knew about physical pain. He had seen the gleam of violence in the eyes of a wall of Mavericks preparing to throw itself at his comparatively paltry count of Hunters, so he knew about hopelessness. He had slipped into death while holding onto the trembling fingers of his best friend, so he knew loneliness.

He was even familiar with fear. Contrary to popular rumour, fear was not reserved for humans, a species that was never more than a step away from the Dark (though its healthiest and most capable men and women found themselves time and time again on the battlefield, panting, billowing steam into the icy morning, defrosting the stiff white grass with blood. The Hunter had seen plenty of _that_, too).

Zero had known fear. He had known terror, if you wanted to get right down to it.

But Zero had never known hunger. He had never suffered the excruciating pangs that still afflicted wide pockets of humanity in a supposed world of plenty. Neither had he ever known the desperation that was exclusive to hunger, or felt the trembling of a betrayed body making one last plea for attention.

Zero had never even heard of such afflictions from other Reploids. While humans were always subconsciously on the hunt for their next meal-it was one of several biological drives that made the race a little nutty, Zero thought-Reploids rarely found themselves in a position where they were in desperate need for their own fuel source, Energen.

Zero had never been without Energen.

He had never had it withheld from him.

He had never even considered that humans were capable of doing such a thing.

Zero cursed himself a dimwit for overlooking such an obvious snare for so long. He had considered himself independent, a creature capable of free choice. What a joke. He'd been crouching at humanity's feet this whole time.

Only Mavericks are independent, Zero realised with a chill. The rest of us get fed when the humans decide it's time to eat.

Eden had decided that it was not time for Zero to eat. The Hunter had been assured that it would not be time to eat until he had earned the Energen that would be slotted into his system through whatever recharging bed he was granted.

And to earn that Energen, Zero had to teach the children of Eden how to kill his own kind.

"We-Reploids are armoured for a reason," Zero said to his audience, which looked up at him with cool, expressionless eyes. "We have vital components that can't take much abuse. Think of those parts as-think of them as our Achilles heels."

Zero's voice caught, but he doubted anyone heard it. He was giving his lesson to a tight knot of about twenty warriors gathered in what little breathing room there was among the foliage at the bottom of the Great Tree. The river slipped noisily by and erased much of what Zero said beyond his loud instructions on how a human could make a Reploid suffer.

"Humans made us," he said. "Humans also try to ensure there is a way to stop us."

He allowed himself a smile.

"They don't always succeed."

Nobody laughed, least of all the two women who stood directly in front of him.

Zero sobered. Those two women who were the only reason he was cooperating with Eden in any regard. He could face starvation; he was a phoenix. In fact, Asmodeus' threats against his life hadn't initially been effective, and Zero's first lesson for Eden had been a five-minute rant about why he'd rather kick in his own teeth than have any truck with a passel of brain-dead inbreds.

Asmodeus had looked at Zero thoughtfully, thanked him, and asked him to teach again soon.

The following day, Zero had limped back down to the lagoon at the base of the Tree. "His" students were all there again, with a new addition: Celeste.

"Like humans, injuries to our wrists are dangerous," Zero said. He paused for a few beats. "We don't have arteries in the same manner as you...people, but there are a lot of important wires and tubes, and not a whole lot of flesh to protect him. Not unless-" Zero hefted his right arm upwards to show off the steel gauntlet that protected his own wrist and still did, despite considerable dings, dents, and scars.

Zero allowed his eyes to brush over Celeste before he jerked them back to the rest of his audience. He had done this several times already to assess her condition in quick mouthfuls. She appeared unhurt, though one arm was bound in a sling. She looked a little thinner, but her blue eyes were still clear, and wholly her own.

"See, I have protection," Zero called out, wriggling his wrist a little. "I'm aware of my weaknesses, and take steps to protect myself. But be warned; an especially clever Reploid will find ways to turn his or her weaknesses against the enemy. In the first Maverick War, I beat a powerful enemy by cutting into my wrist and igniting the oil that spilled out of me. Then I slammed my fist down the bastard's throat."

This time, Zero earned some impressed murmurs from his students, and he risked snatching another look at Celeste. Now she looked a little pale; Zero suspected she could recall his most renowned act of sacrifice as well as anyone.

Nevertheless, Celeste's eyes asked him questions. _What are you doing? Why are you here?_

Zero did not allow his eyes to throw back any answers. For one thing, whenever he saw Celeste-up close or afar-she was always in the company of a short, keen woman who had the gaze and quick mannerisms of a peregrine falcon. Zero knew her name was Adina. That was all he had for official information on the woman, but he could take some guesses at her function. She was there, at least in part, to silently remind Zero of something Atticus the Mechadrake had told him when he had first entered Eden on Jody's arm: Though he was a celebrated warrior above ground, he was the champion of nothing in Eden.

Indeed, Zero had nothing here, below the surface, except his humiliation, his slow starvation, and possibly the support of an idiot boy named Jody-who, Zero suspected, may have sold him and Celeste out for fame among his peers.

And now Zero also had this tiny "Adina" woman watching him like a bird of prey, ready to swoop should Zero communicate with Celeste before Asmodeus allowed it.

He didn't care much about his own safety; even in his hungry state, he'd be capable of giving Adina a few lacerations to think about before all of Eden jumped on his back-and, hell, Zero figured he'd mange to punch his initials in a few of _those_suckers before he was sent down to Robot Gehenna. But Adina seemed to know it too, because her expressions and the way she held herself indicated to Zero that she would take out his misbehaviour on Celeste.

Zero wasn't _sure,_which was the worst of it. He thought that he occasionally saw Adina exude true warmth towards Celeste, and motherly gestures like absently pulling her hair back from her face (which Celeste automatically shrank away from, more often than not). Other times, especially when the two of them attended his "class," Adina looked tense, like a Rottweiler that was coiled to kill on a single command from its master.

Zero grabbed his wandering thoughts a bare second before he almost said, "You are all out of your cotton-pickin' minds." Instead, he wrapped up his lesson.

"We're done for the day. Now get out of my sight. All of you."

* * *

Celeste sat on the hard lip of her mattress and tried to think. Her brain sent back nothing except garbled emotions and stupidities. She closed her eyes tight and attempted to wring out some kind of reasonable answer as to why in Mother Mary's holy name Zero was down in Eden with her. Her brain answered with the whirr of spinning wheels and flashes of idiot images.

Celeste blew her bangs out of her eyes. Okay. So trying to puzzle out the _reason_for Zero being in Eden wasn't as important as finding a way to talk to him.

On that matter, Celeste's thoughts and ideas were at least sane and linear, if not just as useless. Whenever Celeste asked anything like a question about Zero's arrival, Adina shut down their conversation with the finality of a slammed door. Celeste didn't need to ask if she could talk to Zero. She already knew she had a better chance of getting permission to moon Asmodeus.

Celeste couldn't help but grin at that mental image.

Someone entered the empty dorm. Celeste automatically turned in the direction of the footsteps, expecting one of her dorm-mates, all of whom still kept their distance from her except to steal the occasional nervous glance at Adina.

It wasn't any of the other girls from the dorm. The sight of the visitor in the doorway turned Celeste's bowels into a knotted, icy tangle. Her tongue shriveled into a dry piece of leather, but she managed to say, "Jody."

The silver-haired boy leaned his shoulder against the side of the wide door frame. He rubbed one leg with the opposite foot and split his lips into a smile that showed his canines. "Hey Celeste. Welcome home."

Celeste stood up slowly. "You're part of Eden?" she wavered.

"Born and raised."

Nausea slipped around Celeste's stomach like a cold fish. For the worst five seconds of her life, she knew hopelessness, abandonment, and betrayal in their rawest forms. Everyone she had trusted had turned on her.

Suddenly, Celeste saw red. She balled up her unhurt hand. "You're the reason. You're the reason I'm here, you son of a bitch."

Jody pushed himself off from the doorway. "You're wrong about that," he told Celeste. He took wide, slow steps toward her, letting his boots scuff on the floor a bit with each step. "No, you know what? You're half-right."

Celeste braced herself, stood her ground. "What do you mean?"

"It's complicated, Celeste." Jody touched her cheekbone with two fingers, and traced the outline of her jaw. Then, in the space of a bare second, he pitched forward with a grunt while (Celeste imagined) indescribable agony blossomed from between his legs.

"Touch me again and I'll cause some permanent damage," Celeste growled. Hot blood flushed her cheeks as the dam that bricked up her frustration and fury began to bulge. "Remember, Loy. I'm _your_commander."

"Ungh," Jody managed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he used the adjacent bed to help himself to his feet. "Good shot, Celeste, and a good point as well. I'd expect no less from the girl who's going to be my life's mate-"

This time Celeste caught him under his chin with the heel of her palm. Jody reeled and flecked the beds and floor with a spray of blood.

Celeste stood back, a little surprised with herself, but also borderline orgasmic with the release. "I don't want you, Jody," she said carefully. "I don't know where you got the idea that I do."

Jody held the crook of his elbow to his mouth to staunch the red river gushing from his tongue. He looked up at Celeste, and the hurt in his grey eyes went deeper than physical pain. He shook like a heartbroken child.

"I love you," he said, his words mangled by blood and his shredded tongue. "I always have."

"I don't love _you_, Jody," Celeste returned. "In fact, right this red-hot minute, I hate your guts."

Jody removed his arm from his mouth and spat a jet of cromson onto the dorm's grey floor. "I hope, for your own good, that someday you realise I'm driven to protect and care for you in a way that no-one else ever has. Including your father." Jody automatically held up his hands. "Please don't hit me again. Just listen. On your last night here, Jake left you alone so he could-so he could visit Ange. I found you near the Hollow, dazed. Jake's desire to rut with that woman was more important to him than the safety of his own daughter."

Celeste felt her heart quicken. "I'm not going to listen to your damned lies, Jody."

"How do you know they're lies, Celeste," Jody hissed, showing red teeth. "You seem to have a very selective memory when it comes to your previous stay in Eden. Awfully convenient of you to remember nothing but the good about Jake."

"And I _do_know that everything you've told me since you enlisted with the Hunters is a lie. So why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

Jody lurched forward and grabbed her shoulders before she could react. "How could you forget Eden?" he barked, his breath stinking of blood. "How do you forget spending part of your childhood in a big goddam city underground? How do you forget the friends you made as a kid?"

Celeste tried to pull away, but Jody tightened his grip. "What happened to you, Celeste?" he said.

"Stand down, Jody," Adina called from the doorway. "You've been rejected."

At the sound of Adina's voice, Jody peeled away from Celeste and actually cringed a little. He didn't turn around before saying , "Hello, mother."

"'Hello,'" Adina echoed with a snort. "Sure. You leave Eden, fail to complete your mission, make me the laughingstock of everyone down here, and then try and claim my charge as your own after avoiding me for three days. What makes you think you deserve the affections of McTreggor, Jody?"

Celeste could practically sense Jody gathering up his withering storages of courage. "I have delivered Zero the Maverick Hunter to Eden," he said, finally looking at Adina.

"Don't hand me that, boy. I wiped your snotty little nose when you were tiny, so I think I'd know if you're capable of bringing the Maverick Hunters' very best down here. And you're not."

Jody's hastily assembled confidence tumbled like matchsticks, and he ducked his head. Celeste watched with intense interest.

"Celeste," Adina called to her without taking her eyes off her son. "Are you at all interested in being Jody's wife?"

"I'm not interested in anything to do with Eden," Celeste said. "I'm not a dog or a horse. I won't be bred for a cause."

"Your participation in Eden's agenda is not up for debate," Adina said with a tight grin. "However, you have the right to choose or reject a suitor as you see fit, and you have my word that I will protect that right. So there you are, Jody. And I can't say I blame Celeste for turning her back on your incompetence and impotence."

_Burn,_ Celeste thought to herself. Still, a small part of her felt a bit badly for Jody, who seemed to shrink into himself with every insult lobbed at him by Adina. Not that any of it was undeserved.

"I'm sorry, Celeste," Jody said with surprising honesty. "I got wrapped up in myself and forgot what had made us friends in the first place." He met her eyes. "Can you forgive me?"

"I don't know," Celeste said coldly. "I don't know what you think we did in the past, but I'm not your friend. And there's still the issue of you being the reason why I'm even here."

Jody combed his fingernails over the top of his head. "Like I said before, Celeste, I'm not the reason. Definitely not the entire reason."

"My son is right about that much, Celeste," Adina said dryly. "He _had_been ordered to infiltrate Maverick Hunter Headquarters, sow discontent, and retrieve you if possible-but he stopped short of bringing you back. Asmodeus sent up a random patrol to do the job for you. It was the Mechadrake Nytetrayn who carried you here."

"That much I know," Celeste said darkly. "I wouldn't mind having a big talk with _that_one."

Adina pushed past Celeste and Jody and retrieved her bo, which was propped on the back wall as usual. She slowly eased into a kata, and Jody and Celeste automatically took a few steps backwards.

Adina stabbed the bo in Jody's direction without breaking her rhythm. She said, "Tell me, my dear son, what drove you to linger above ground instead of doing the job you had been sent to do?"

"I already gave my reason," Jody mumbled. "I care for Celeste, and I knew I couldn't drag her here against her will. Asmodeus had promised her to me if I brought her back, and-and I couldn't do it. If she doesn't want me, I'll back off."

Adina withdrew her bo. "I just assured Celeste that she has the right to choose her partner," she said. "I suppose Asmodeus' 'reward' would have overridden that choice?"

"That's the impression I was under."

"All right," Adina said. "All right. I respect your actions, Jody. After all, your father was a good man, but if I had been given my voice-well, that's in the past." She looked at Celeste. "I understand your unease around Jody, but he's my son, and I haven't seen him in some months. Would you be comfortable with him accompanying us around Eden for a little while?"

"As long as you're with me too, Adina," Celeste said. As soon as she said it she realised how crazy she sounded, asking her warden to stick by her. But she felt like she could trust the woman-savage though she looked-sooner than she could trust her silver-haired son.

"Then perhaps we can all share a meal together, and talk about...things. Like where Jody gets the idea that we're supposed to behold his 'capture' of Zero as anything but a farce."

* * *

Zero slowly awakened. He muttered nonsense and flexed his fingers against the greasy, torn vinyl that lined his recharge bed.

He felt rested, but he was still hungry.

He'd been fed some Enegen-possibly just enough to starve a little more slowly.

Zero wasn't at all surprised. He knew he could cause some major chaos to the real estate if he was running at full capacity. No doubt Asmodeus knew it, too.

Zero looked up sharply as the transparent dome covering his bed came unfastened with a clack and a reptilian hiss. He could make out a dark figure through the filmy, scratched plastic. The image sharpened as the figure, a black Mechadrake, helped pull aside the dome. He peered down at Zero with small, gold eyes.

"Good morning, Hunter Zero," said the Mechadrake. His voice was raspy, barely more than a croak. He coughed before continuing. "I'm Nytetrayn. We met once before in Maverick Hunter Headquarters. Your friend X shot me in the throat-perhaps you recall the incident, you made a cute remark when it happened-so excuse my raw voice."

Zero stared blankly. "So that was you," he said slowly. "The Mechadrake who was supposed to die."

"Just a misunderstanding between myself and my peers," Nyte said. "There needn't be any misunderstanding between us, though. We might be of some use to each other. Now, get on up. I want you to meet a friend of mine who has half an ear."

Nyte smiled with all his teeth. "He might remind you of a friend of your own."


	36. Thor and the Seahorse

**CHAPTER 36: Thor and the Seahorse**

Moonlight lay down a soft silver path for Overdrive Ostrich to wade through. Outside of the moon's influence, the metre-high blades of grass swayed and hissed like vipers. Crickets gossiped in the roots of their jungle. The dark air was soft and fragrant.

Overdrive stopped. "God, the outdoors suck. How did I ever stand it?"

Overdrive's company was incapable of answering him, but he gave the ostrich's feathery hand a quick squeeze.

Overdrive looked down at his charge, whose gaunt, down-covered head barely crested the silver grass bending around him. "Well, kiddo," Overdrive said, "You're probably the first human who's walked through here in quite some time. What do you think about that?"

No response.

"This particular bit of the Grasslands-well, see, humans threw some nukes around a bunch of years back, and then built cities as far away from the contamination as possible." Overdrive strained his eyes at the darkness around him. "They're a bit paranoid about going too far from their safe zones and into the blasted lands. You can't see or smell radiation, and you usually don't even know you're poisoned until your guts liquefy and come flying out both ends."

Nothing.

"I *think* you're safe, though," Overdrive said. "It's been a long, long time since the war, and Nature has her ways of cleaning house. I think the humans are just scared of spectres. Know what, though? That's for the best. Humans leave filth everywhere they live, everywhere they walk, even when they don't mean to. If there are some spots in the world that they're afraid to touch, that is perfectly okay."

Overdrive looked down at the boy beside him. "No offense meant, Rover. I don't know if you still count as a human, anyway."

Rover, whose parents had once called him "Paul," split his lips in a grimace. He made a sound that resembled the snarl of a wolf puppy, but Overdrive already knew that it was the boy's way of smiling and laughing.

The Maverick grasped Paul under his arms and scooped him up so that he could see the expanse of the grass ocean that breathed around them.

"Everything the light touches will be your kingdom," Overdrive cackled. "'Course, there's not much light around right this minute, but maybe we can arrange for you to inherit *something.* Wait 'til you see our fortress and meet Phoenix. I think she'll love you."

Overdrive paused and considered. "I mean, I think she'll love you once she gets used to you, like I did."

Overdrive tried to pinpoint the exact moment he'd become fond of Rover. He believed he'd started unthawing shortly after the two had fled the sewers and began making their way back to Doppler's old fortress. The only thing Rover had owned at the time was his birthday suit, which fit him as handsomely as dirty tarp stretched over tent poles. Overdrive, knowing that he'd attract all sorts of ugly attention by default of being a recognizable Maverick with a young mutant human as an accessory, had made it a priority to find some cast-off clothing for the kid.

It was an easy hunt, given the spoiled tendencies of the humans living in the subdivision wherein he'd surfaced with Rover. Now the boy was draped almost down to his knees in an oversized shirt. It was clean, though Overdrive had found it in a trash bin. Nevertheless, he still couldn't make any sense of the faded logo on the shirt's front: he had no idea what it meant to be "Tragically Hip," and he wasn't going to waste any time trying to puzzle it out.

When Overdrive had thrust the shirt at Rover with a gruff "Here," the boy had looked at him with such tenderness that the Maverick's interior bolts shook a little. He read a message in that glance, clear as glass though Rover was unable to give voice to it: _You have provided for me, and now I will follow you._

And Overdrive had suddenly started feeling friendly towards the boy. He also guessed Rover was mere inches away from speaking, though he was still a baby, and therefore had no business talking.

Not that he had any business walking, pondering, or studying Overdrive with those green wild-wolf eyes of his, either.

"Jeepers Christmas, Torrent," Overdrive muttered up to the moonlight. He dragged his palm down the top of his beak. "What have you made out of this boy? What's your major malfunction?"

Overdrive knew the answer, of course: his mentor was certifiably insane. Toys in the attic, truly gone fishing, and the rest of it.

Worst of all, Torrent had a plan.

"Oh, he has a plan, all right," Overdrive whispered to Rover, a habit he'd picked up after weeks of writhing in Torrent's shadow. "Lord love us all, he has a plan. That's why we're here. That's why he let us go."

* * *

Overdrive had decided that he'd had enough of Torrent Leviathan's abuse and general insanity. He summoned his remaining scraps of courage and cornered Torrent in his filthy den to tell the Mechadrake that he was going home-and that Rover, Overdrive's long-intended gift for Phoenix, was going with him.

Torrent, who had been dozing, had lifted his head from his bare, stinking mattress to blink at Overdrive, then at the mutant boy beside him.

"Suit yourself," he grunted before turning his back at them. "You want to get yourself mixed up in what's going on above? Go on."

_Dammit,_ Overdrive seethed inwardly. He was being baited, as usual, but at least it was for the last time.

"Torrent. Since I got here, you've treated me like something that floats through your canals. So do me this one small kindness, and then I'll eff off for the rest of your miserable life. What is going on above ground?"

Torrent bounced his response off the wall. "You ever read _The Hobbit?_"

"Yeah," Overdrive said. "Some Mavericks refuse to touch human literature on principle, but that's idiotic. It makes good sense to dissect everything that the enemy holds dear, in case you can use their affections against them in some way."

Overdrive was also very fond of the banter between Bilbo Baggins and Smaug the dragon, but he decided Torrent didn't need to know that.

"Aren't you deep," Torrent said. "So you remember the gathering of the Five Armies at the end of the story, correct?"

"Well, yeah. What's that got to do with affairs on the surface?"

"Oh, figure it out, you bloody fool!" Torrent shot up again, his eyes blazing. "The Inheritors of Eden-the Questing Beasts-Ange the werewolf-and that _thing_ standing next to you. It's all part of the same beautiful chaos, and _I_ orchestrated it! Now get out. Get out and play your part!"

* * *

Overdrive had no idea what "his part" entailed, but he was perfectly content to play it out from the thick safety of the Maverick's fortress. At least it was far, far away from Torrent, and it was air-conditioned.

Sometimes.

"Let's go home, Rover. All right?"

* * *

"Move, move, move!" Cass the Badger bellowed at the sludge of human traffic that slithered slowly, much too slowly, through the wide suburban streets and over to the idling buses that would take them to safety.

Intelligence had been very clear: the Mavericks, the Questing Beasts, were not far behind, and they intended to lay waste to Torrisham Crossings.

_Too many people. Too slow. Not enough buses._

X stood across from Cass, on the other side of the street. The humans walked five abreast, though their progress was anything but orderly. It was the usual scramble and desperate din, the usual snarls and snaps that arose from anger and pain, and the usual smells of nervous, scared humans and their domesticated animals, though they had been told (over and over) that the Refugee Camp had no space for them.

X was so desensitised to the entire bedlam that he actually ran his hand down his face and phased out to try and remember why Torrisham Crossings seemed so familiar.

"Good morning, X!" Cass roared from across the way. "Wake up! I need you with me. Incoming!"

The badger's last word was meant to make X aware of a pale, wild-haired human who was thrashing through the human current to reach X. "Pardon, pardon, pardon," the man gasped over and over as his neighbours' eyes speared him with poisonous daggers. "My son! Help my-"

_Oh Lordy,_ X thought, but he held out a hand to help the man stumble up and over the curb. "What's the problem, sir?"

"My son," the man panted. He held one spidery hand against his heaving chest. He-he's missing. Please help me find him."

X put his hand on the man's shoulder. "I doubt he's come to any harm. He probably just got caught up in the crowd. I'll get some of my Hunters to help you search." X touched the side of his helmet to put out the call.

The man barked "No!" and when X regarded him in surprise, he reddened. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking down at the trampled greenery beneath them. "I'll level with you. I-don't trust reploids. Sorry. I'm so sorry. I just don't."

"I'm a reploid, sir," X said dryly. "In case it slipped your notice."

"You're different," the man stated, as if X was supposed to hold that as automatic knowledge. "I see you on the news all the time. I _know_ you. I want you to help me, not the others."

"Well, the evacuation is routine from this point out-all right. I'll help." X made eye contact with Cass. "Cass. Follow me," he called.

"No," the man barked. X looked at the man sharply, who licked his dry lips and added, "Just you. Come on."

"I don't think so, sir," X said slowly. "Cass is my partner in this mission, and he's one of my most trusted lieutenants. He's coming along."

The man was obviously getting ready to raise another protest, but Cass had already worked his way through the crowd. He brushed off his big paws, balled them up, and jammed them against his hips. "Well?"

"This gentleman has lost his boy in the crowd," X said. "We're going to help find him."

"Perfect," Cass rumbled. He looked at the human. "Where do you think your son ran off to? Did he have any favourite places to play?"

The human gave Cass a dark look and stuffed his hands in his jeans' pockets. "When we were preparing to evacuate, Thor said he wanted to play one last time in the park," he mumbled. "Maybe he's there."

"'Thor,'" Cass parroted. He smiled. "Hell of a name. All right, let's go to the park."

* * *

The park was at the centre of the neighbourhood. It was surrounded by gentle hills, and what had once been (X supposed) lush greenery. Before the trio even wandered into the playground area, they glanced uncomfortably at the grass; the grounds had been kept short all summer, and it was impossible not to notice that they were criss-crossed with plasma burns.

Cass muttered under his breath about the place looking like a scene out of "That one old movie about the robots taking over the world-not the first one, mind, but its sequel. I liked that one." The human looked at the badger nervously.

X pictured the neighbourhood kids laughing and riding their bikes to the once-lively hub to run, climb, and play baseball. All at once he felt very heavy.

The trio crested the last hill that separated the park from the playground. The playground was seemingly a lonesome place with a smattering of plastic-coated equipment that had been made dull by years of exposure to sun, wind, trampling feet, and grasping hands.

But X's instincts screamed that the playground _wasn't_ deserted, and his head automatically swiveled to the jungle gym on the right side of the sandy lot.

Toxic Eagle, one of the Mavericks' Questing Beasts, stared back at him from atop the gymboree like a bird of prey balanced on a pile of bones.

"Shit!" Cass barked, his hand flying backwards to reach for his mace. "It's a trap!"

Toxic Eagle turned his hateful stare from X to the man trembling beside him. "I told you to bring X and no-one else, human," the hybrid said hollowly. "I see X, but I also see that big idiot badger. Now your boy dies."

"I tried, I tried," the man sobbed. "Please-"

"Oh for Christ's sweet sake," Cass said as he brandished his weapon. "X-"

Desperation and frustration threw energy into X's limbs, and suddenly he was pelting down the hill and towards Toxic Eagle with more fury than he ever knew he had. But this new energy was blood-red, scalding. With a flash of dull surprise and dread, X realised he had every intention of killing the Maverick, and his conscience couldn't stop him any more than a lasso could stop a runaway train.

Toxic Eagle's long-snouted face remained blank, but X saw the hybrid rear back his head in surprise before he took wing. X's boots threw up waves of sand as he skidded to a halt bare centimetres from the jungle gym. Toxic Eagle hovered for a second and seemed to consider something. Then he gathered himself and darted over to another tangle of park equipment. The hybrid was especially interested in an orange plastic tube that was elevated between two graffiti-scrawled blocks of wood and draped with webs of knotted rope.

X's breath escaped his chest in savage rasps. He had an idea of what was stowed in that tube. He looked back at the hill and the human who'd brought them there. He looked very pale and very small next to Cass, but when he saw Toxic Eagle settle on the tube, he jumped. Cass automatically grabbed a handful of the Man's collar and said, "No."

_Good boy, Cass,_ X thought grimly. When he looked back at Toxic Eagle, the Maverick drew himself to his full height. "I wasn't bluffing about the boy, X," he hissed, his words matching his serpentine stature exactly. He stamped a clawed foot on the waxy orange tube. "I'll gut him if you come any closer."

The wild horses got into X again and trampled all rational thought. He bolted at Toxic Eagle, whose eyes registered disbelief before they hardened again. He drove his head into the open end of the tube, like a bird hunting some insect wriggling in a tree hollow.

Of course, Toxic Eagle's drive to keep his word was his mistake-as was the fact that he'd forgotten to mind his tail. The appendage, green as new grass, dangled over the smooth curve of the orange tube. X leapt and seized it.

Toxic Eagle's rusty squawk was still echoing in the tube even as the rest of him spilled on the sand in a mangy tangle. X hung onto the beast's tail with both hands. Toxic Eagle thrashed his tail, but the Hunter clasped onto both handfuls with iron strength.

"Then we'll fight where we stand," Toxic Eagle declared.

X smiled without humour. "I'll fight where I stand. You're gonna be fighting where you sit."

"Clever," Toxic Eagle hissed. He beat his ratty blue wings and kicked up a miniature sandstorm that made X wince. He also gained enough height to pull his body back and throw one of his taloned feet in X's face.

The crimson pain of the predator's claws carving furrows in his sand-flecked face was enough to make X drop Toxic Eagle's tail. He threw up his hands to try and peel the Maverick off him, but the blind, chaotic pressure couldn't be pushed away.

Every receptor in X's body vibrated with the furious need to draw his cannon and blast, but he leashed his compulsion; he wasn't positive he could fire a shot without also melting the tube-and the kid inside-into orange slag. Then there was the issue of shooting himself in the face by accident. Yes, that was a very real possibility. Despite the pain of having a Maverick shred his skin like a cat working at tree bark, some dim, still part of X was relieved to know that his common sense hadn't fled him entirely.

X's world suddenly suffered a violent jerk, and two things happened at once: his shoulder hit the ground with a powdery thud, and Toxic Eagle's claws detached from his face. X heard a squeal of pain beside him, and then a war cry exploded from a broad badger throat. He sighed in relief and allowed himself to close his eyes for a few precious seconds. He absorbed the muffled percussion of Cass running across the sand, hunting his quarry.

Then X collected himself and leapt to his feet.

Toxic Eagle was flying, or at least he was trying to; one of his wings had been smashed, and dangled at his side as a jumble of metal, feathers, and wire. He was trying to get airborne with his good wing, but could only manage getting a little height on a succession of sick hops.

Cass followed behind at a stroll, his mace slung over one shoulder. Cass was big, but slow; he typically caught a quick, lithe opponent off guard, crippled him with a heavy blow, and stalked the remains until the finish.

Of course, Toxic Eagle's days of speed were long gone.

X said, "Cass-"

"In a minute, in a minute," Cass said, but then burst forward with another war-cry and a heavy swing of his mace. Toxic Eagle threw one arm up and managed a choked "I-" before the mace thudded against his narrow skull. The hybrid shuddered and collapsed.

"Out cold," Cass said before X could ask. "Not dead. Shouldn't be too hard to get info out of him."

"He surrendered, Cass," X said, turning to meet the human who was flying down the hill towards them. "You didn't have to bash his brains in."

"Hell with that," Cass snarled, placing one foot on Toxic Eagle's skull. "When this dickweed was perched on those monkey bars like-like the King of Creation, I saw the look in your eyes. I saw how you ran at him when he threatened to kill that boy."

"Thor!" the man from the hill cried. He galloped up next to the Hunters. "Thor!-is he-"

X was already mounting the equipment that cradled the orange tube. His head buzzed with concern for the boy, but he also felt a kind of synthetic nausea over Cass's insubordination. He'd have to discipline the badger. The big guy was sorry, surely he was sorry-

_I saw the look in your eyes._

_I don't trust Reploids. I'm sorry. I don't._

"Goat rodeo," X said with a sigh that started at his toes. He looked in the tube. "Thor?"

Indeed, a boy who looked to be about 12 was curled up inside, like a human seed at the start of gestation. He unfolded at the sound of X's voice. The sunlight beating down on the tube loaned an orange wild-animal tint to his stare.

X offered a hand. "You're safe now. Your father's here with us."

"X," the boy whispered, extending his own paw, which was swallowed by X's hand. "You're X."

X smiled a little in embarrassment. "I suppose I am, though it's hard to tell. I got a bit clawed up. Are you hurt?"

"No," said Thor, though when X pulled him into the sunlight, it was made obvious that the boy had wet himself. When he saw that X had noticed, he turned crimson. "I'm sorry. He didn't hurt me, but I was scared."

"It's all right, Thor."

"It's _not!_" Thor burst out. "I've dreamed of meeting you since I was a kid, and what happens? I go and piss myself." He hiccuped, then bit back the sobs that were hitching up his chest. "Hell with it. What's it matter? What's it matter?"

X pulled Thor into a hug and let the boy rest his hot cheek against his cool armor. Thor took deep breaths and began to settle as X stroked his long black hair once, twice.

"I love you," Thor said. Then he pulled away, flicked a shy but honest glance at X, and leapt off the playground equipment to join his father.

X put one hand on the tube that had been Thor's prison. Suddenly, he experienced a very clear memory that was more sensation than sound or vision: once, he'd pressed his finger against the creamy palm of a human newborn, and that baby had immediately gripped him with surprising strength, and without prejudice.

And then X heard Zero's voice from somewhere inside him. _No matter what, never forget that you fight for them. They're not perfect, but they're worth protecting._

"X, this guy wants to talk to you," Cass called up while gesturing at the man and his boy.

"All right," X said, following Thor's lead by jumping down to the sand. "We'll need to escort you two back to the evacuation area, anyway."

Father and son walked silently, hand-in-hand, while X reprimanded Cass for his earlier behaviour in low but sturdy tones. The badger, who had the limp body of Toxic Eagle draped over his shoulders, was sullen. However, he didn't interrupt X.

Thor's father said, "Excuse me-er-X?"

X held up a hand to halt Cass; they were close enough to the evacuation scene to hear its buzz. "What is it, sir?"

The man moved his eyes up and down X's battered frame and bloody face, then looked at the ground again and mumbled, "That flying guy hurt you pretty bad."

"Some shallow scratches. Nothing serious."

"Either way, you bloodied yourself up to rescue my son, and I appreciate it more than you'll know." The man paused awkwardly. "The trap-I'm sorry about the trap. That guy grabbed Thor and told me-"

"I can guess what he told you," X said. "And it was worth this and more. You have a special kid there, sir. Please take care of him."

"I will."

"Anyway," X continued, "I knew you were in serious need of a Hunter when you asked me to _help_ your son. Then you changed your story and said he was lost." X smiled lopsidedly. "Nice cover."

The man smiled in turn, finally. "I was praying you'd pick up on that," he said. "What I really wanted to tell you, though, is that I have some information that you might find useful. In return for helping us, see."

"Oh? What?"

The man hesitated, then said, "You Hunters are looking for a renegade female Reploid, right? One who stole a baby from a woman?"

X nearly choked. The situation with Iris wasn't public information. "I'm afraid you have it wrong, sir. There's nothing like that going on."

"Oh, sorry," the man said. "Guess I was mistaken. But let's say, for the sake of fun, you all _were_ looking for such a Reploid girl." The man scratched under his nose. "I might have heard something from a friend of a friend about a Reploid girl taking refuge with a human family in the Black Hawkway subdivision that's not far from here."

"I see," X said slowly. He continued walking without looking at the human.

"I might've also heard something about that Reploid girl staying with Reploid rights activists who have vowed to harbour her, and fight for her, if it comes to that."

"Huh."

"Listen, X," the man said. "I'm not a Hunter. Never will be. But if I was, I might suggest that we all scour Black Hawkway before a Maverick attack scrambles things up over there. You know?"

X nodded. "I know."

"All right." The man looked mournfully at the line of idling buses that X was leading the party to. "All that all said, I guess we should focus on getting used to our new...home."


	37. Evening Plans

**Chapter 37: Evening Plans**

Caillou sat quietly in the warren he once shared with his mother. He broke apart chunks of the hard cracker-like substance the mess hall distributed for Edenites to snack on between meals, and he dipped the crumbly chunks in his tea. He chewed on the softened bread, but it just tasted like glue, and he assumed the stuff was in fact cementing his intestines shut. Caillou pushed aside the bread, flicked at crumbs, and tried to take stock of his emotions.

He felt like a cipher, a dark hole oozing mud, a bloody, empty socket that was once home to a tooth.

Worst of all, Caillou could remember his white-hot jabs of fury, his chuckling joy on the rare occasions he found something funny, and the spells of lust that seemed to awaken all his senses at once and light up the world with colours and scents that were otherwise impossible to experience. But it was all gone, replaced by thoughts and feelings that were the colour and flavour of oatmeal.

The harder he tried to think, the blander his thoughts became.

Caillou sipped his lukewarm tea. The brass band on his wrist was to blame for his tepid state of mind, he knew it. Nytetrayn knew it too, or at least Caillou was pretty sure of it. The Ouroboros band wasn't merely in place to sterilize his body; it was there to sterilize his thoughts, his will, his desires and drives.

Despite Caillou's flatlined emotions, he knew he was on the verge of a ferocious change of some kind. Not an hour ago, he had entered his warren and walked on a scrap of toilet paper that was blotted with spartan orders to meet up in the Hollow during the quietest moment of the fourth quarter. The notice's handwriting had been devoid of any distinguishing features-and seemingly written with some kind of ink, thankfully, instead of a less hygienic fluid.

All the better, as the note was currently being boiled away to nothing deep in Caillou's gut, along with that godawful bread. No sense in leaving evidence around, he thought mildly. Though evidence towards _what,_ he couldn't exactly say.

What fun.

* * *

Jody Loy wiped his greasy brow with the back of his arm. He willed his belly to shed the dull, yellow aura of fear that weighed on it like a thin coat of lead. It wouldn't budge.

So Jody scratched through his memories, tried to recall the elation he felt when he first entered Eden with Zero as his prisoner. Nothing. It was like trying to draw up the last few drops of milk through a straw, and getting only a wet rattle.

The roar of Eden's river rolling by almost caused him to miss a salutation that came from under the thick canopy of trees along the bank. Jody whipped his head back and forth in search of the source of the voice until it said, "Right behind you, you horse's ass."

"Crap!" Jody barked while executing a nimble 180 degree turn. Zero grinned at him from his seat: A large rock by the riverbank.

"Hey, Jody," he said. Even in the dim light, it was easy for Jody to take stock of Zero's dents, scratches, and scars. The Reploid's one good eye glittered; the other was now wholly shut, seemingly by the furrow that ran down it. Jody couldn't remember where Zero had gotten that scar from, and moreover, he didn't care. He dropped his hand over his chain sickle.

"Oh don't even try it," Zero chuckled. "I'm screwed beyond belief down here, but I'm starting to think my status is worth more than yours. I'm useful to Asmodeus, at least. You're an okay warrior, but he has plenty of those. You're caught in a lie, besides."

"What do you know about it?" Jody hissed.

"I may be beat up," Zero said, "and I'm fed only just enough Energen to keep me out of stasis lock, but there's nothing wrong with my hearing, Jody. I catch enough of the gossip around here, including the tittle-tattle about your own mother not believing that you have the stones to take me prisoner." Zero grinned. "I _told_ you it was a terrible plan."

"K-keep your voice down!"

"What happens if I don't?" Zero unfolded himself and stepped out of the emerald shadows cast by the foliage alongside the river. "Are you a bit frightened about what Asmodeus will do to you when he finds out we're in cahoots? Is Eden above torturing its own warriors? I've heard a little about that subject, too-about how the ghouls in charge of _that_ operation favour psychological tactics, since you're all conditioned against pain." Zero crossed his arms and tapped his finger against his mangled arm canon. "So what's your Room 101, Jody? Broken bones left to mend crookedly by themselves so that you'll never fight properly ever again? Being blinded? A sliced Achilles tendon?"

Jody felt the blood drain from his face, and he swallowed back the plume of sour bile that rushed up from his stomach. "Shut up. Shut the hell up! What do you even want out of me?"

"You used me, so now it's my turn to get something out of you," Zero said in a low voice. He slid up closer to Jody, who automatically recoiled. "Your mother is that woman who spends all her time with Celeste, right?"

Jody hesitated, but said "Yes."

"Adina?"

"Yes."

"Does she love you?"

Jody jerked his head back. "_What?_"

"You heard me."

"Of course she loves me, you half-wit," Jody snarled. "Why would you even ask?"

Zero grinned again. "Oh, just curious. I've heard some of the things she calls you."

Jody swallowed. "She can be a little harsh, but nothing I can't endure. Nothing I don't deserve."

"Well, I can't argue that last point."

"What's it matter?" Jody hissed. "What's a bunch of circuits and wires know about mothers, anyway? Just tell me what you want before anyone sees me talking to you."

Zero glanced over one of his shoulders, then the other. "All right. I want to talk to Celeste. You'll need to pry your mother off her for a second."

"How do you expect me to do _that?_"

"I don't know," Zero said. "She's your mom. You'll figure something out."

"My mother is a very strong-willed woman," Jody sighed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and silently cursed his inability to keep it from visibly trembling. "Why do you want to talk to Celeste?"

"I want to make sure she's all right. I want to let her know I'm here to help bust her out."

"She's fine," Jody said. "I can give you that much on my word of honour."

Zero looked at him hard. "Thank you, but I still want to talk to her."

Jody ran both his hands through his hair and grabbed double-fistfuls. "Goddamnit! Why should I even _help_ you?"

"Because you care about Celeste," Zero said, "but you're not in a position to help her. Neither am I, to be honest-but if we work together, we can all get the hell out of here alive."

"'We?'"

Zero hesitated, then he said, "I'll protect you. You, Celeste, and a few others I've met whom I won't name yet for their safety. This place is a crazy house, but I think we stand a chance if we put our backs together." Zero narrowed his eyes at Jody. "If you'd rather see what miracles Edenites can perform with a small, sharp blade, you can stay."

"I can't stay," Jody said, his stomach twisting. "It's...just not a good idea. I've been on the Outside. Asmodeus always said that the Outside corrupts; maybe he was right."

"Sure, blame it on Asmodeus." Zero retreated back to his rock and sat down. "I guess it doesn't matter, though, as long as I have your support."

"I don't have much of a choice."

Zero cocked his head to one side. "But if you stayed and you...got into some trouble, wouldn't Adina protect you?"

Jody thought of his tiny mother and her fierce, dual nature. "I don't know," he said honestly.

"If that's really the case, then I have an idea that might get her away from Celeste-and it'll cover your butt for a few minutes longer, too."

"What is it," Jody asked as he rubbed the sore spot under chin where Celeste had caught him the other day (_Speaking of small, fierce women,_ he thought to himself as a jumble of resentment, admiration, and love shot through his veins).

Zero's lightsabre awoke with a hiss. "I'm going to hurt you again," the Reploid said.

"Whoa! What?"

Zero's lips parted in a fierce smile. He pulled himself up on his rock and pointed his sabre at Jody. It hummed menacingly. "Welcome to my class. I know you can already mangle a Reploid, so we're going straight into the advanced stuff. Defend yourself."

Jody had just enough time to loose his sickle and use its sturdy chain to block Zero's attack. He blew a sharp breath through his teeth and tried to fade away from the abysmal pain in his cracked ribs, but Zero pushed on him without mercy.

"It's for your own good," the Hunter cackled.

Jody was wholly on the defensive. His stress, his previous injuries, and his lack of practise made it easy for Zero to spot his unguarded knee and kick it out. Jody gasped and crumpled. Zero's sabre dove like a bird of prey, and the smell of burning flesh mingled with a cry.

"You'll see," Zero said.


End file.
